


ruby red.

by beeluvd



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hope's Peak Academy (Dangan Ronpa), Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Character Study, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Peko and Maki are the friends they need, i never see fics of these two so i made one myself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:48:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27450733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeluvd/pseuds/beeluvd
Summary: When the small brown haired girl finally picked her eyes up from the ground, Peko was met with a pair of striking red eyes that matched her own. “What?” The girl asked, sounding slightly irritated.“N-nothing,” Peko responded hastily. “I just wanted to say hi.” The girl raked her fingers through her pigtail and turned her eyes back towards the floor.“Hi,” she replied bluntly. An awkward silence hung in the air.“What’s your name?” Peko asked, still feeling a bit brave. The girl took a slow, deep breath.“Maki Harukawa,” she responded, her tone less annoyed. “Peko Pekoyama,” Peko said, trying to give a small smile.—When she is 6 years old, Peko meets a girl with eyes as red as her own at a school that's specially designed to create child killers. Maki discovers that they have a lot more in common than she initially thinks. Despite the world they're in, they find childhood in each other.But the end, Peko and Maki have to grow up. Even if they didn't want to in the first place.—Content Warning for Violence, Childhood Abuse + Trauma—WORK IN PROGRESS. YES I WILL 100% BE FINISHING THIS.
Relationships: Harukawa Maki & Pekoyama Peko, Harukawa Maki/Pekoyama Peko, Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko & Pekoyama Peko, Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko/Pekoyama Peko
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	1. "Hi."

**Author's Note:**

> WHY DONT I EVER SEE FICS OF THESE TWO!!!!! God I was only gonna make this like 3 chapters but now I have the outline for 8. So. Nice job Bee. Idiot.
> 
> Anyway here are my two favs being friends in a world where they have to do things that a kid should never do. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for violence + references to child abuse!! (since apparently DR loves canonically abusing children)

They were 6 years old when they first met in the cold September air.

Peko was 6 years old when Mr. Kuzuryu dropped her off at an inconspicuous dojo, a small shinai strapped across her tiny back. He told her he’d be back at the end of the day, and then sped off in a black SUV without another word. All she knew was that she was here to train. 6 years old and unsure of what lay ahead of her, the small silver haired girl slid open the doors to the dojo, slipping off her sandals at the door. 

She was met with a small crowd of about 10-15 kids around her age, all armed with various kinds of weapons. A boy with black hair slightly taller than her held a mini katana and was polishing the blade with the hem of his shirt. A blonde girl slightly shorter than her had her eyes closed and was sitting cross legged on the ground, presumably meditating. Near the corner of the room, away from everybody, stood a small girl with her long brown hair in pigtails held together by two tiny red scrunchies. She fumbled with the hem of her threadbare red shirt as her black skirt swished lazily with her movement. She didn’t have any visible weapon from what Peko could see, but she figured that this girl could easily have a concealed weapon underneath her skirt. The girl kept her eyes fixated on the ground as she fumbled with her left pigtail and chewed the inside of her cheek. The rest of the kids muttered amongst themselves, waiting for their sensei to arrive. Not sure how to join the group of kids, but not wanting to feel totally left out, Peko made her way near the girl with pigtails, awkwardly standing a foot or two away from her. 

When the small brown haired girl finally picked her eyes up from the ground, Peko was met with a pair of striking red eyes that matched her own. “What?” The girl asked, sounding slightly irritated. 

“N-nothing,” Peko responded hastily. “I just wanted to say hi.” The girl raked her fingers through her pigtail and turned her eyes back towards the floor. 

“Hi,” she replied bluntly. An awkward silence hung in the air. 

“What’s your name?” Peko asked, still feeling a bit brave. The girl took a slow, deep breath. 

“Maki Harukawa,” she responded, her tone less annoyed.

“Peko Pekoyama,” Peko said, trying to give a small smile. Maki gave a small grunt in response. ‘ _At least I got her to talk to me_ ,’ Peko thought to herself. 

The doors slid open to reveal a large brawny man with a black goatee and several scars on his arms, towering over the crowd of small children. A few of them cowered, but many, including Peko and Maki, stood firm. He faced the many little faces before him and raised one eyebrow. 

“Do you know why you’re here?”

He was met with silence. The boy polishing his katana shifted his weight between his feet nervously. Perhaps they all knew or perhaps none of them knew, but either way, nobody dared to speak up for a few long, agonizing seconds. 

“We’re here to become killers.”

Maki’s voice cut through the silence. It was soft yet sharp, like knives on a pillow. 

A few kids turned to look at her in bewilderment. Most of them stayed looking at their feet. Peko kept her eyes forward, unfazed. 

The man nodded. “If you are here in this room, it means you have potential. It means you’ve got a certain type of fire in you. A certain ability that can be…” He paused for a moment, eyeing all the children one by one.

“...Nurtured.”

Maki felt her heart burn and lungs tighten. ‘ _This could be the fire he’s talking about,_ ’ she thought as she ignored her hands quickening their pace and tightening their grip as they raked through her long hair. 

Instead of fire, Peko felt the knowing feeling that was already in her sink deeper into her stomach. A part of her had already known her role; she’d been taught the mantra “I am just a tool” since she could speak and had the words “young master” carved into her tongue since she was born, always knowing her place behind and beneath him. She knew that she existed to protect and to serve. The idea that she and Fuyuhiko were “friends” had been eradicated by his father since he had first brought up the very idea of it. 

The Kuzuryu family had a personal kendo trainer at their disposal, who had already taught Peko quite a lot for a 6 year old. However, they felt that sending her to a school that specially trained hitmen and assassins from a young age would do her some good to mold her into the killer they wanted her to be.

Maki, on the other hand, was here on business. Despite only being 6 years old, Maki was fully aware of her orphanage’s real function, and she was also aware of the reason she was here. She remembered her friend, Yua, pulling her aside, tears in her wide eyes.

“They want to take me,” she told Maki in a hushed voice. “They want to take me so those big men will give them a lot of money.”

“Isn’t that good? You’re being chosen?” Maki asked, failing to see the problem.

Yua’s eyes grew even wider. “They’re gonna make me...k-kill...people…” She hid her face in her hands, breathing in quick breaths in her state of confusion and panic.

The reality of the situation clicked in Maki’s head. She already knew that the orphanage supplied assassins to train in order to fund them and keep them open, she just never knew they started them that young. Hushed rumors of the agony and torture the trainees were put through were always circling around the kids. One boy had even suggested that they cut off your fingers every time you fail a mission, and that fear had been instilled in them ever since. 

And here was her friend, about to be dragged off to some unknown hell where she’d most likely be beaten and tortured. Yua, who was scared of spiders and allergic to dust, who cried at loud noises and who was as fragile as a feather.

“I’ll make sure they won’t take you,” Maki said firmly, clenching her tiny fists. Yua, through her blubbering and tears, nodded, believing her.

She never saw Yua again.

Now here she stood, feet planted on the ground, a look of determination that mirrored that of the silver haired girl next to her, her hands still fiddling with her pigtails. The blade of the knife she kept strapped to her thigh, concealed underneath her skirt, pressed coldly against her skin. She’d been through relatively simple training by the assassin organization and had the scars to prove it. Though she wasn’t totally skillful with it, she was still mildly capable with her knife.

Since leaving Yua and the other kids at the orphanage a couple months ago, Maki had spent virtually no time with kids her age, so now being in a room full of them who had the same intentions as she did was rather, to say, overwhelming.

Fuyuhiko and occasionally Natsumi were essentially the only other people her age that Peko really got to spend time with. Other than that, she’d never gotten the opportunity to socialize with kids her age either. All she knew how to do was protect him. It was the one thing she was put on this earth to do. Friends weren’t a necessity. They never had been.

The burly man standing before them all now scanned the faces of all the kids before him, searching for something. As soon as he landed on Peko, shinai strapped cleanly to her back, posture straight and upright, he locked onto her.

“You,” he said, pointing at her. She straightened up even more, making direct eye contact with him. “What’s your name?”

“Peko Pekoyama,” she stated fervently.

“Peko...come here.”

She walked forward so she was standing to where he was pointing.

He looked back up at the sea of children, again searching.

“You.” He pointed at Maki. “Name?”

“Maki Harukawa,” she said, her voice stern.

“Come here Maki.” He pointed to a space a few feet away from Peko.

She obeyed.

The two girls now faced each other, each pair of ruby red red eyes meeting the other, each one refusing to look away. Peko’s heart quickened, her fingers itching to reach for the sword strapped across her back. The blade felt hot against Maki’s skin.

“Now, say you two are opponents right now. The other is threatening someone or something that’s the most important person or thing in your life. What do you do?”

A blonde haired boy came to Peko’s mind.

Yua’s sobs were ever present in Maki’s memory.

The two girls stared at each other, eyes blazing.

“Kill.”

The word left the both of them at the same time so naturally. 

Maybe they were born for this.

—

After some time, everyone in the class had several cuts and bruises between them (and in one poor boy’s case, a black eye given to him by Maki). Being forced to freestyle fight on the first day may not be the most conventional thing in the world, but they were at a school that trained children how to kill after all; conventionality wasn’t exactly what they were going for.

“In this sparring, you will not be aiming to kill. I just want to see how you fare against each other’s abilities,” the man had explained while Maki and Peko had stared at one another, imaginary hatred seething in their eyes. “I will be doing this with the rest of you as well, so watch them closely. You’re all opponents under this roof.”

Maki now sat in the corner of the room, watching Peko spar with another boy who had brought a sword with him. He was taller than her by several inches and, despite wielding an actual katana rather than a shinai, he seemed to be losing to the smaller girl. Their sensei watched closely, observing how the both of them fought, presumably taking mental notes in his mind. Maki pressed the ice pack she had been given harder onto her calf; Peko had landed in a good jab to her leg and Maki had tumbled downwards and gotten a rather nastry bruise because of it. She refused to give up though, lunging at Peko and giving her a good sized cut on her arm that was now wrapped up in a bandage. She watched as Peko launched herself forward and hit a point on the boy’s arm, causing him to drop his katana entirely. The man's arms shot out. 

“That’s enough. Thank you Peko, thank you Danno. You may go sit down.” He pointed to another girl who seemed to be trembling and a boy who was mindlessly twirling a balisong around his hand, concentrating on doing tricks. “Maro, Okimi, you’re next.” Peko wiped the sweat off her forehead as she caught her breath, instinctively making her way back next to Maki who sat in the back corner of the room; since she was the only other person she’d interacted with and Peko wasn’t sure where else to go.

She lowered herself down to sit cross legged next to her, braids swaying, and placed her shinai on her lap. She checked out a slowly darkening bruise on her own arm and watched out of the corner of her eye as Maki looked down, fiddling with her ice pack and saying nothing.

“I’m sorry about that bruise,” Peko said apologetically.

Maki shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s gonna happen more anyway.” Peko stayed silent. She wasn’t wrong about that.

“Sorry about that cut,” Maki mumbled. She hadn’t _wanted_ to hurt her, but the thought of Yua’s crying face brought back her urge to fight. As soon as the blood had started running down Peko’s arm, hot guilt had surged through Maki’s veins. But that was immediately replaced with fear as Peko swung her sword towards her, narrowly missing as Maki darted out of the way.

“It’s okay,” Peko said, shrugging as well. The two sat in silence, watching their classmates go at it with a balisong and a small sort of scythe, some rather atypical weapons, but deadly if utilized correctly.

“Where did you learn how to swordfight?” Maki asked out of the blue, slightly startling Peko. “Oh, I learned when I was 4,” Peko said proudly, staring proudly at the bamboo sword that was laying across her lap. “I am a tool for the young master. A tool must serve and protect. That’s why I learned kendo,” she said proudly.

Maki scrunched up her nose. “Tool…” she said back to herself. The word didn’t sit right in her mouth, but she was 6 years old and a child and didn’t question it all that much because of that. Peko, was, after all, here for the same reason she was. It didn’t matter to her why.

“Where did you learn how to fight with a knife like that?”

Maki looked up from her ice pack to see Peko looking at her with expectant eyes. “Um...to defend myself.” Though she had spent most of her time in the orphanage, Maki was no stranger to living on the streets, and learnt self defense had been a part of that. Her already basic capabilities with a knife may have been a reason as to why the scouters had taken her up on her offer to take her instead of Yua instead.

Peko nodded solemnly, understanding. “You need to take down the bad guys no matter what,” she said, her tone serious and slightly threatening. Maki stared at her, memories of taking down those who had tried to snatch her up running in the back of her head.

“Yeah. I know.”

“That’s enough. Thank you Maro, Thank you Okimi.” Their sensei’s voice cut through their conversation as the two sparring in the middle of the room came to a stop, the girl now sporting a freshly bleeding lip. “We will continue this and discuss further matters after our quick lunch break.”

Peko pushed herself off of the ground after delicately putting her shinai back into its designated bag, then turned around to see Maki still nursing her leg with her ice pack. On instinct, Peko extended her arm to Maki, offering her hand. Maki looked up at her, then to her hand quizzically, then back to her.

“Do you want help getting up?”

Maki stared at her hand. Her leg did still hurt, and though she didn’t really need help walking, it would still be nice.

Nodding slightly, she put her hand into Peko’s and she pulled her gently to her feet, effortlessly and elegant.

“You’re strong,” Maki said, noting the obvious. Peko gave a tiny smile. “Thank you,” she replied politely. Despite only being 6, she still had 2 years of basic kendo training under her belt, and it definitely showed.

Maki walked over to the opposite side of the room, picking up the small ratty tote bag she had brought with her. Peko stayed behind, her eyes towards the ground, fumbling with the hem of her skirt.

Sensing her absence, Maki turned around to see that the girl had stayed behind and was still on the opposite side of the room. She furrowed her brow slightly.

Maki had never been one for companionship, save for Yua at the orphanage. She found that most people annoyed her, and preferred solitude, even as a young child. Peko, however, didn’t seem like most people. She was quiet and reserved, unlike the kids at the orphanage that constantly clung to her, more similar to Maki herself than the kids she was always around. She was more muted and serious than any kid Maki had ever met; such a stark contrast to what she was used to. Peko was far less bothersome than any other child her age she’d met, and therefore more tolerable in her book. So against her instinct to separate herself from others and be alone, Maki called out impulsively:

“Peko? Are you coming?”

Peko looked up, her eyebrows arching in surprise. “Um...sure.” She stepped forward, putting her hands behind her back. It was only then that Maki realized just how thin she was. Peko was strong, yes, and rather agile for a 6 year old, but she didn’t look as filled out as the other kids that she had sparred with despite being able to take them down.

Maki turned around and slipped her shoes back on, heading outside with Peko in tow.

It was a rather nice day today, and the rest of the kids (soon-to-be assassins) sat outside in the grassy space near the dojo, sitting in large groups or with their sparring partner. A couple kids sat alone, more focused on eating than conversing with the others. Maki walked to a spot in the grass a ways away from the other, Peko still silently following behind, and plopped herself down. Peko followed. Maki chewed the inside of her cheek, questioning whether being around this girl would be anything worthwhile.

Wordlessly, Maki pulled a small bento box from her shabby tote bag and opened it up. Peko had placed herself in a position where she sat with her calves tucked underneath her, her hands rested flat on her thighs, her eyes closed. As Maki began to open her bento box, she frowned slightly.

“What are you doing?”

“Meditating,” Peko said shortly without opening her eyes.

Maki’s frown deepened. Being 6 years old and her priorities elsewhere, she had never meditated before, nor had she any interest in it.

“Why?”

“To center myself. It helps me concentrate.”

Peko said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Maki looked around at all the other kids enjoying their various lunches, meditation the last thing on their mind.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Maki asked, the box still in her hand.

To this, Peko gave a slight frown, one that was so subtle that had Maki not been an inexpressive person herself, she may not have noticed it.

“I don’t need to.”

Maki’s frown became mixed with an expression of surprise.

“That’s stupid,” she said bluntly as she began snapping open her bento box.

Peko’s nose scrunched up just a little bit. A blush began to creep onto her cheeks.

“Also I—I didn’t bring anything.” 

With this she opened her eyes, a slightly dejected look on her face.

Maki chewed the inside of her cheek, conflicted.

“Why not?”

Peko began to lace her fingers together. “They didn’t...give me anything.”

“Who?” Maki knew she was probably asking too many questions, but she had always been rather curt, even for a little kid.

“The family. The dad, he’s…” Peko’s words trailed off into nothing, laced with something between distress and confusion.

“Well that’s stupid. I’ll just share mine with you.”

Maki snapped the top of her bento box open. Peko began blushing profusely. She didn’t need to be helped. She never did.

“N-No you don’t have to, it’s okay. I don’t eat all the time anyway.”

Maki gave another huff of indignation. “Well that’s even more stupid. Here, have a piece of onigiri,” she said as she held the box out towards her, ignoring Peko’s protest.

Peko stared at the bento box. It wasn’t much; the orphanage only had so much, and they’d provided Maki with a couple steamed vegetables, several pieces of plain onigiri, and tamagoyaki. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to sustain her, and maybe someone else, for the day.

Giving Maki a small smile for the first time today, Peko gingerly took a piece from the box and began eating it in small bites. “Thank you,” she said politely through the food in her mouth.

Maki returned the smile, her mean demeanor falling away from her face for a moment to reveal a regular 6 year old who was just sharing her lunch with a friend. “You’re welcome. If you want more, have some more,” she said, placing the bento box in between then. “I know it sucks butt being hungry.”

Peko’s grin widened at that statement and a tiny giggle escaped her. Maki’s smile grew at the girl’s laugh, and began to laugh alongside her. For a moment, their harsh worlds fell away, and they were just two little girls laughing at a silly joke in the grass. If you had seen them, they’d just look like two ordinary kids eating lunch together on a sunny day.

They sat there in the sun for a while, feeling for a couple minutes what it would be like to just be a kid eating lunch with a friend, the concept of a school that specializes in training kids to become killers vaporized in their minds for a few precious moments.

As Peko reached for another piece of onigiri at Maki’s request, Maki popped a steamed broccoli into her mouth, and a word that had never had a place in either of their lives before dawned on the two of them for the first time.

_‘Friend.’_

  
  
  



	2. "Sometimes You Have To."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for graphic violence! Mild mentions of child abuse. Kids killing people. The works.

“Friends are not necessary,” their sensei told everyone strictly one week later, his instructors as frigid as the winter. 

Peko and Maki stood side by side, backs straight and rigid, eyes facing forward, each of their respective weapons held closely to their tiny bodies. 

“Friends only make you weak,” he elaborated. “None of you are friends here. Acquaintances at best, opponents at least,” he continued, speaking to the crowd of children. 

“You have no friends. Not here, and definitely not out in the real world either.”

Peko aligned herself up even more. _‘No friends,’_ she repeated back to herself.

Maki lifted her chin. _‘Not here,’_ she remembered.

—

Several hours and injuries later, Peko sat with Maki in the grass, wrapping up her leg from a shallow cut she’d gotten from Maki’s blade. 

“That was really good,” Peko told her as she finished securing the bandage. “You did good.”

Maki chewed the inside of her cheek, her elbow still slightly throbbing from where Peko had jabbed her particularly hard today. “You were better,” she grumbled, rubbing her elbow.

Maki held her bento out to Peko again, shaking it slightly to signal to her to take a piece of onigiri; she’d asked the caretaker at the shelter she stayed in to provide the plain snack again, remembering how much Peko liked it, and despite the older woman’s grunts of annoyance, she had complied with Maki’s request. Peko slowly reached towards a piece, looking up at Maki with hesitant eyes. Maki just rolled her own and shook the box again, and Peko decidedly took a piece in her little hands.

“I like sparring with you,” Peko said simply as she took a bite of the onigiri. Maki chewed the inside of her cheek again and fiddled with her pigtail.

“I like sparring with you too,” she mumbled. 

“Getting strong is important. That’s what the young master’s father told me,” Peko contemplated as she took another bite. Maki stared at her hands as she picked up a piece of tamagoyaki with her child sized chopsticks. 

“I don’t really like hurting people,” Maki confessed as she stared at the egg in between the two sticks. Peko’s eyes seemed to glaze over with something steely and hardened, reminding her of the men in black suits that took her way. It was cold and unfeeling, like she knew something about the world Maki didn’t.

“Sometimes you have to.”

Had any other 6 year old said this, one might have been concerned. Had Maki heard these words in any other situation, she might have been frightened. But neither Maki nor Peko were being raised in any sort of conventional sense, so in her own world where she was forced to grow up too fast, Maki nodded. 

“I know.”

She popped the egg in between her teeth, savoring the salty taste.

—

Two weeks later, their sensei decided it was time to train using multiple types of weapons.

“Although I understand that this is your weapon of choice, it is still important that you are able to operate with any sort of blade,” he said as he stripped Peko of her shinai. The malcontent was clear on her face as she was deprived of her bamboo sword, which had grown to be like an extension of her body; Peko felt as though a part of her vital system had been removed. He pressed a blunt blade into her small palms, and she watched with envy as he handed Maki her own shinai. 

“Now, you will understand your opponent better.”

Peko’s grip tightened around the blade, honing in on Maki’s hands wrapped around the shinai handle.

_‘That’s mine,’_ she thought angrily as she clutched Maki’s own knife. _‘That’s supposed to be mine.’_

Maki’s hands shook slightly with the extra weight that the shinai placed onto her, her hands only being used to wielding knives or other types of short blades. It was scary and unfamiliar, and she felt vulnerable against this girl that now glared at her with a fierce look in her eyes.

Even for a child, Peko was capable of violence, as was the pigtailed girl standing before her. Now, seeing Maki hold the one thing that only ever belonged to her, Peko seethed with a rage she had never known before.

She felt a hot burning anger scorch the lining of her stomach as their sensei taught Maki basics of striking an opponent with a shinai, thinking about how she knew all of that already and had he just left her with her weapon, she’d be able to have a fair fight with Maki.

But after Maki had gotten the hang of a couple basic steps, she caught on pretty quickly; Maki was a very quick learner, and though she was no master at kendo, she got the hang of handling the bamboo sword quicker than most. Their sensei stepped back, allowing the two girls to face each other head to head.

“Remember: you are not aiming to kill.”

These two in particular always seemed to need that reminder.

“One...two...three!”

Peko lunged forward with fury emanating off her face, blade gleaming.

Maki’s eyes glinted with ferocity as she darted out of the way, swinging the shinai.

—

“I’m sorry about that bump,” Maki apologized as they sat outside in the grass again, looking at the nasty bump that had begun to sprout on Peko’s head. The girl gave a laugh, clear as a bell. 

“It’s okay. I’m sorry about that cut,” Peko responded, pointing at the cut on Maki’s shoulder that had gone a bit deeper than she had intended. Maki shrugged, chewing her cheek again. 

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt that bad anymore,” she said, rubbing the bandage that had been wrapped around it after their rather brutal match.

Peko held her shinai in her lap, savoring it as though it was her own baby snoozing in her arms. All feelings of jealousy and feigned hatred had dissipated as soon as it had been back in her hands. 

“You did really good with the shinai,” she admitted to Maki. Though she was nowhere near Peko’s skill level, she did surprisingly well for her first time, picking up the skill far faster than any adults could. Maki twirled one of her pigtails with one hand as she reached for her bento again.

“It was fine, I guess. I don’t really like having something that...big. I prefer smaller knives,” she admitted, snapping open her bento box. Peko began putting the shinai back into its designated bag, but not before giving it one more satisfying look. It was obvious that she was glad to have it back.

Maki held out the bento box to Peko; this time there were several pieces of spam musubi. Though it wasn’t common to get these in the place Maki lived (lived is a bit of a strong word; it was more like where she was kept with several other young assassins in training), she’d practically begged the caretaker to make these specially, just once. She wanted to see how Peko liked them.

This time Peko took one with no hesitation, trust put fully in Maki. “I’ve never had these before,” she said as she bit into one. Immediately her face lit up with a childlike glee. “It’s good!” Maki gave a smile, something she only found herself doing around this small silver haired child.

“I asked if I could have these today. I wanted to share them with you,” Maki said as she took one for herself.

A look of fondness washed over Peko’s young features. “You wanted to share them with me?” Maki rolled her eyes but found that the smile didn’t leave her face.

“Yes, dummy. I like them, so I wanted you to try it,” she said as she took another and pushed the box towards Peko again. The girl who had just been trying to stab Maki a few minutes ago gave her a smile that made her feel warm and fuzzy.

“Thank you, Maki,” Peko grinned as she took another. 

The two chewed on their respective pieces of spam musubi, watching their classmate Maro twirl his balisong effortlessly in several tricks that seemed deadly but entertaining.

“I wish you could come over,” Peko mused as she finished her piece. Maki turned her head to face the girl.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I wish you could meet Fuyu—I mean, young master. He can be a bit loud sometimes, but maybe you’d like each other.”

Maki knit her eyebrows together and took another bite of her musubi.

“But Mr. Kuzuryu doesn’t like people coming over unless the young master says so. And whenever that happens I have to leave them alone.” Peko let out a sad sigh.

Maki swallowed her last piece. 

“Why do you call him that?” She wasn’t sure what prompted her to ask; it wasn’t any of her business, but she was still curious.

Peko seemed a bit caught off guard. Then her face contorted into a certain eerie neutrality that Maki only ever really when she talked about the people at “home.”

“My purpose as a tool is to protect and serve the young master, heir to the Kuzuryu clan. He is the most important thing in my life and no harm will come to him as long as I am alive.” She said all of this in a monotone voice, as though rehearsed hundreds of times over. It was almost robotic, an automatic and unnerving stoniness for a 6 year old.

Maki gave a small grunt as she chewed the inside of her cheek again. “That sounds stupid,” she mumbled. “He’s your friend. Just say that.”

Peko’s mask of stone suddenly broke, a tinge of pink appearing on her face. “Mr. Kuzuryu said I’m not allowed to call him that,” she said, looking down. “He said that tools don’t need friends and they never will. But it’s an honor to serve him.”

Maki recalled the men in black suits telling her that her sole purpose in her life was to “serve others and kill when told.” She was just a kid, she didn’t know any better, so she believed them.

“Well whatever,” Maki grumbled, picking up another piece of spam musubi, then holding her box out to Peko once more.

“We’re not supposed to have friends anyway,” she said dully.

Peko turned to her and picked up another piece without hesitating.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

—

“Does your mom pack your lunch?”

A week later after their last sparring session, the two sat in the same patch of grass as though this was routine for them. Peko’s question made Maki feel slightly seasick as she reached for a square of tamagoyaki with the extra pair of chopsticks Maki had stolen from the kitchen that morning. She sported a slowly swelling black eye today, given to her by a rather large boy in their class that mainly used his fists. Maki herself had an ice pack held against her jaw where she had gotten a not-so-pretty punch in the face by the same guy. They were strong, yes, but even these children had their limits.

“I don’t have a mom,”

The statement fell from Maki’s mouth before she could think about it.

“Oh. Me neither.”

Peko chewed the tamagoyaki thoughtfully.

“Mr. Kuzuryu said they found me in a trash can and that I’m lucky they found me.” She swallowed. “But I’m glad they did, cause I got to meet young master Fuyu because of it.”

It was an odd sentiment that flew over Maki’s head; she was too young to realize the things wrong with that statement, so she continued the conversation.

“They found me on the steps of the orphanage. I guess my mom didn’t want me and left me there.”

The words leaving her mouth felt normal and flat, both of them being too young to really think about it too hard.

“Mine either,” Peko said.

Maki gave a small laugh, and Peko followed, neither of them dwelling on the thought for too long. Normally Maki felt bitter and sad at the thought of a faceless woman abandoning her on the steps to her eventual doom, but to meet someone like her was strangely consoling.

“So who packs your lunch?” Peko asked, still curious.

“The lady who takes care of us. She’s kinda mean, but it’s whatever,” Maki replied, picking up a square of egg with her chopsticks. She recalled the older woman with slightly greying hair that “took care of” all the kids that lived in the warehouse, providing them with the bare necessities that a child would need to live. Though she performed the acts of a caretaker, she was far from a mother figure for any of the children: cold, mean, and unwelcoming, even to the children she looked after.

“I like her cooking,” Peko commented. “Even if she sucks.”

Maki giggled at her statement. “Yeah...she does suck.” Peko found the corners of her mouth curving upwards as she took another piece of egg.

“Some adults suck!” Maki suddenly said, feeling bold. “Sometimes they hurt you, and that sucks!” She thought of the men in black suits smacking her across the face when she spoke out of turn, her face stinging for hours afterwards.

Peko wrinkled her nose as she chewed once more, contemplating that sentence.

“A lot of adults try to hurt the young master. His dad is really important, and some of them try to hurt him for revenge, I think. So that’s why I’m there,” she said with a mouth full of scrambled egg. She swallowed her food, an odd look of determination replacing it. “I have to hurt all those adults back.”

Peko said this as though there was nothing wrong with that sentence, and Maki nodded in understanding, as that sentence was nothing out of the ordinary to the two of them.

“Some adults are really bad and don’t keep promises,” Maki told her as she reached for a wonton that had been leftover from a few days ago. “The people who I stay with told me I have to get them back, ‘no matter what it takes.’” Maki gave the last phrase two air quotes to show that they had said that word for word.

Peko nodded, reading for a wonton herself. “We’re supposed to kill them, aren't we,” she stated as she grabbed the fried wrapper in between her fingers, emotion absent from her voice.

Maki stared at the wonton in her own hands before biting down, listening to the fried bits shatter in her ears. Despite being a couple days old, it still maintained a satisfying crunch.

“Yeah.”

—

That day, Peko climbed into the black SUV that took her back to the Kuzuryu residence with a fantastic black eye and an ice pack. 

The man in the driver's seat paid no attention to it, said nothing to her, just as he always did.

She watched Maki intently, staring at her but never waving, keeping her eyes on her as long as possible before she was completely out of sight.

When they arrived at the Kuzuryu residence, Peko climbed out of the SUV by herself and thanked the nameless man who had brought her back, strapping her shinai to her back as she prepared to walk back to her room in the servants quarters across the courtyard from the mansion itself.

Peko held the ice pack to her eye, hoping that the swelling would go down by tomorrow, when she heard a familiar voice call out from across the yard.

“Peko!”

She turned around, slipping on her mask of neutrality as though it was second nature. She dipped her head, still holding her ice pack to her eye.

“Hello young master,” she stated formally. Fuyuhiko rolled his eyes.

“I told you not to call me that. It sounds stupid.” He jutted his bottom lip out, pouting childishly. 

Peko raised her head, meeting him at eye level. “My apologies, but I’ve already told you, I can’t do that. As heir to the K—”

A look of alarm flashed across Fuyuhiko’s boyish face.

“What happened to your eye!?”

Peko fidgeted with the ice pack that was now beginning to melt. “It’s nothing, don’t worry young master. I just got a bit hurt when I was practicing today.” She felt drops of water kiss her cheeks as rain threatened to fall.

Concern found its way onto Fuyuhiko’s face as his brows knit together. Despite being Peko’s age and having a considerably youthful face even for a 6 year old, he suddenly looked far older than he was.

“What do you mean...practicing…?”

His eyes began scanning Peko’s body, locking onto the long sleeves of the tattered coat she was wearing in this cold weather. His eye widened as though piecing together a puzzle in his head.

“Peko...roll up your sleeves.”

Fear shot through Peko’s body as she refused to answer, body rigid and unmoving, afraid to disobey a direct commany. With no response from her, Fuyuhiko grabbed her arm and forced the sleeve up, revealing the multitude of cuts, bruises, and bandages that she’d accumulated over the last few weeks.

“Wh-what—!?”

She yanked her hand back, shaking her sleeve down her arm to conceal the injuries that resided on her arm. “It’s nothing, young master. It is not your concern.” 

“Peko, wh-what!? You’re hurt!” His eyes widened, golden and terrified. He spoke in a low whisper, one she only ever heard when he was secretive or afraid.

“What are they doing to you?”

Her breath caught in her throat.

He didn’t know.

Peko looked away, pressing the ice pack harder against her blackened eye. She felt her shinai press against her back, as though egging her on. The feeling of bamboo against her back at all times was all but a constant reminder of what she was supposed to be.

“I’m doing this so I can protect you like I’m supposed to.”

The words came out cold and bitter, unsure if they wanted to be confessional or pleading. She was a child and she was confused, but most of all, Peko only ever wanted to be good.

Fuyuhiko stood petrified, at a loss for words. With no response from him, Peko gave him one last dip of her head, almost reluctant to raise it, almost apprehensive to meet his eye. Still, her stony exterior never faltered, neutrality becoming her standard. With one final pause, Peko turned, refusing to let herself look at him.

“I apologize, but I must go to the nurse to check my eye.”

She left him there, standing frozen in the courtyard as rain began to descend in icy sheets, cold biting at the tracks of tears that formed cold spots on his cheeks.

_‘No friends,’_ she reminded herself. _‘Not here.’_

—

Maki watched as Peko was driven away in a black SUV, their eyes not breaking away from each other until she was completely out of sight.

When the black SUV had become nothing but a small dot along the road, Maki picked up her frayed tote bag, shrugged on her thin coat, and began walking.

It wasn’t a long walk from here, only about 15 to 20 minutes, but when she felt a raindrop splash on the tip of her nose, Maki sped up her tiny legs in hopes that she’d get there faster. Unfortunately by the time she got to the inconspicuous warehouse tucked away into the corner of an alleyway, her hair looked as though she had just taken a long shower.

Maki swung open the metal door, cringing as it creaked on its hinges. “You look like an octopus,” a boy about 8 years old told her as she attempted to squeeze the water out of her pigtails. She glared at him, shooting daggers through the space in between his eyes. 

“Maki!” she heard an older voice bark from the kitchen area. She followed it to see the middle aged woman who fulfilled the caretaker role to the bare minimum (and packed her lunches) cleaning the countertop, presumably messy from cooking dinner.

“Eat up,” the woman said gruffly, pointing to a small bowl of soup along with a couple steamed vegetables that lay on the edge of the countertop on a tray. Maki grumbled a halfhearted “thank you” as she took the tray in her hands, heading to her “room,” which was just a small room in the corner of the warehouse. All of the kids here had one; it was small, and not at all soundproof, meaning if you were unlucky you could hear your neighbor snore through the night. There were about 15 rooms, meaning they were housing 15 young assassins, Maki being one of the youngest. 

The warehouse also consisted of a kitchen area and 3 bathrooms, which all of them had to work together to keep clean (because otherwise nobody would). The men in black suits appeared every day to talk to or request a child, either taking them for a mission or to a “special training session.” What these sessions consisted of, Maki didn’t know, nor did she want to find out. They had yet to take her or request her, and she hoped it would stay that way (though a part of her already knew that hope was in vain).

She entered her room, set the tray on her twin cot, and immediately changed into one of the other few pairs of clothing that she owned after setting her tote bag on the floor, disliking the sensation of wet cloth sticking to her skin. Upon feeling less drenched, she hung her clothes off the side of her small table and situated herself on her cot, eager for some sustenance after her walk back to the warehouse.

Maki sat upright, her tray of lukewarm soup and steamed vegetables on her lap. She ate her soup slowly, savoring the broth, feeling the heat warm her from her throat to her toes. _‘If Peko were here she’d probably really like this,’_ she thought affectionately. As quickly as the thought came to her, she physically shook her head, banishing Peko from her mind. 

_‘No friends,’_ she reminded herself. _‘Not here.’_

—

Peko was nearly 6 and a half years old when she first killed someone.

It had been about three weeks since she’d brushed Fuyuhiko off in the courtyard, her black eye nearly completely faded by now. Maki noticed that Peko was oddly quiet today; even more quiet than she normally was, which was far quieter than the other kids in the class anyway. However, today she found it was different. Peko seemed strange, almost as though she was moving her body from muscle memory and not through free will. She kept her eyes focused on the ground, never looking Maki in the eye. When it was her turn to spar with the other kid with the katana, she was quick and agile and still came out victorious, but somehow still seemed off; yet Maki wasn’t sure how. It wasn’t until they were sitting in their usual patch of grass, Maki opening her bento box, before she spoke up.

“Are you...okay?”

The question came tumbling roughly out of Maki’s mouth, unaccustomed to being used. Peko sat with her knees pulled to her chest, her chin rested on her knees. Her eyes stayed trained on the grass in front of her, her usually vibrant red eyes glazed with that same steely look that Maki only ever saw in her or the mirror.

“I killed someone yesterday.”

Maki stopped wiping her chopsticks.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Peko let out a huff of air from her mouth, slightly puffing out her cheeks, her eyes still looking downward.

“Was it bad?”

Peko shrugged. “They put me and the young master in a van and tied us up.” She thought about the large, terrifying men that had grabbed their small bodies and thrown them into the back of a white van, tying and gagging them with rope so tightly that Peko felt like her wrists would fall off.

Oddly enough, a small smile crossed her face. “I got out because of that trick you taught me with the knife.” At Maki’s advice, Peko now kept a tiny blade strapped to her thigh; she had learned from Maki how to cut herself free using the knife attached to her leg and had been able to free herself and Fuyuhiko without a sound.

Maki slowly began wiping her chopsticks again, finding another tiny smile on her own face. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. I cut us free with it and we escaped.” Her eyes darkened, her smile fading. “But they tried to stop us. They tried to hurt us.”

The van's doors had flown open and Peko had lunged forward, wielding her knife; her tiny frame had ensured that she’d be able to evade the men’s clutches. She’d been able to get them on their backs by kicking the back of their knees and had messily cut open their throats as they gurgled helplessly at the hands of a child, the color red staining her hands and the front of her clothes. It was sloppy and by no means professional, but her only objective in that moment was eliminating the threat and getting him to safety.

Fuyuhiko had stared in horror as blood stained her skin crimson, tears in his eyes while hers held nothing at all.

Now, her eyes looked up, looking straight forward toward nothing in particular as though remembering something casual, that same inhuman neutrality growing stronger. Her face held no sadness, no fear, no remorse. Rather, in the place where emotion was meant to be displayed, it was as flat and cold as stone.

“I had to.”

Maki finished wiping her chopsticks and set them on a napkin, which she placed beside Peko. She opened up her bento box, revealing some tamagoyaki, some edamame, and a couple pieces of plain baked chicken. Reaching for the second pair of chopsticks in her tattered tote bag, she began to wipe those down as well. Maki paused for a second, trying to find the right words in her first grade level vocabulary.

“Sometimes you have to.”

Peko’s eyes hardened, lamentably astute and far older than the girl that possessed them.

“I know.”

—

Maki was 6 years old when she was assigned to her first mission.

It had been two weeks since her conversation with Peko about her own first kill. 

She wasn’t not alone, of course; she had another assassin in training along with her. He was 15 years old and she didn’t know his name, only that he was crafty with a knife and that he’d done this several times before.

She had watched him chase a man down an alley, finally pinning him to a chain link fence that met the back of the alleyway, wrapping a long sleeve t-shirt around his neck until he had turned blue.

“Come here,” the boy had said to Maki, his eyes glinting with something terrifyingly animalistic. She obeyed.

The man had panted heavily, sweat running down the side of his grimy face like rivers, his chest heaving through his ripped clothing. His nostrils flared and his eyes widened, either in fear or in surprise at seeing a small child wield a knife that was nearly as large as her head. She stared at him, eyes glazing over. Maki began to understand the unknown stoniness that she often saw in Peko’s face, starting to feel the nothingness that always seemed to consume her silver haired counterpart.

“Do it.”

Maki was 6 years old when she first slit a man’s neck and felt blood pour like water onto her hands.

  
  


“Are you...okay?” Peko asked on a day when Maki had been rather slow in her fight against her, earning herself a blow to the side of her head with Peko's shinai.

“I killed someone yesterday.”

The sentence flew out of her mouth eerily nonchalant, as though she expected to be saying it more times in the future.

Peko pulled some bits of grass out of the ground until it turned up dirt, scrunching up her nose. She knew she should feel bad, or feel scared, but instead she simply felt her heart beat at the same pace it usually did. 

“Was it bad?”

Maki shrugged.

“I had to.”

She recalled the boy patting her on the back as the man bled out in front of them, telling her she’d done a good job and that the bosses would be happy with her, the blood stained knife feeling heavy in her hands with every new second that she held it.

Peko looked at the shinai laid across her lap, curling her hand around the handle.

“Sometimes you have to.”

Maki took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the spicy yam cake she’d begged for last night as she opened up her bento box.

“I know.”


	3. "How Do You Get Your Hair Like That?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Content warning for child abuse/trauma since unfortunately shit's canon. Kids getting hit basically :<
> 
> also in case it wasn't made clear, these happen over a period of multiple weeks. by this time, they've been at this "school" for like, 2 months

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to the 2 people that are reading this. I'm writing this for p much completely self indulgent purposes and it's nice to know there r a few people who enjoy it lmao <3
> 
> god these chapters just get longer and longer huh. there's gonna be 11 now. lmfao

Peko’s room wasn’t much, just a bed, a simple desk and chair, a miniscule closet for the few clothes she owned, and a window just barely big enough to stick her head out of. It was located across the courtyard from the Kuzuryu mansion itself, among the other servants quarters. Though it was only a short walk from the house, to Fuyuhiko, it felt miles away.

Now Peko sat on her tatami mat, her calves tucked flat underneath her body, shinai laid out neatly in front of her. Her black eye was completely eradicated by now; it had been 4 weeks since she’d gotten it, and icing it everyday seemed to help her case. However, her black eye now was the least of her worries. 

When Fuyuhiko slid the door to her room open, he found Peko with her head hung low, braids spilling over and bangs obscuring her face. She sat there, motionless as a statue, the subtle movement of her braids being the only indication that she was breathing. He stood in the doorway, looking at her curiously.

“Peko?”

He heard her sniffle.

“P-Peko?”

She cleared her throat.

“My apologies, young master. I must have gotten sleepy.”

Still she kept her head down, not looking up.

“What are you doing?”

Silence.

“I’m meditating.”

Fuyuhiko let out a huff of annoyance.

“Well when are you gonna be done? I wanna play.”

She sniffled again. Fuyuhiko frowned.

Something was wrong.

“Peko?”

“Yes, young master?” she mumbled, not meeting his eye. He let out another huff of air. She should know by now that he hated it when she called him that.

“Why are you looking down?”

Again, silence.

“I always do this,” she said flatly.

Fuyuhiko rolled his eyes and stomped his foot once. “No you don’t. When you meditate you look up and keep your eyes closed. Not like this.” He gestured to her kneeling self. Fuyuhiko may not have known everything that went on behind the scenes with Peko, but he still knew her and her mannerisms; after all, he spent most of his time glued to her side, still believing that they were nothing but friends.

Silence. Fuyuhiko was getting tired. He let out another exasperated sigh and marched over to her, reaching out to grab her by her arm and pull her up by force.

Before he’d even gotten there, Peko had picked up and wielded her shinai with such speed that Fuyuhiko almost toppled backwards. She held it at arms length at a diagonal angle across her body in a defensive position, with no intention to hurt him. She was quick, grabbing it within seconds of him attempting to reach his arm out to grasp her.

“Peko!? Hey, why’d you do that!?”

She kept her head down.

“I have to.”

Anger and annoyance bubbled in Fuyuhiko as his hand met bamboo, growing faster with every second Peko refused to lift her head. A balloon in him burst, throwing words outward that he despised using; as soon as they left him, he regretted it, but the damage had already been done.

“Peko I command you to lift your head up!”

A command. She lowered her shinai and obeyed.

Fuyuhiko’s eyes widened in horror at the sight of his best friend’s face. An angry red welt stained the entirety of her left cheek, fresh and raw against her skin. Her eyes were rimmed with red but still held no tears, as though she’d been holding them back for hours.

“Peko! Wh-what happened!”

She looked away, that familiar stoniness that Fuyuhiko was beginning to see more and more taking over her youthful features. He fell down to his knees in front of her so he could get a closer look at her face at her own dismay.

“Peko, what happened?” he asked softly, sadly.

She clenched her jaw and said nothing. Regret already tying its noose around Fuyuhiko’s neck, he used the magic word again:

“Peko, I command you to tell me what happened!”

Her throat bobbed as she tried to swallow her words, but she couldn’t disobey.

“I was punished.”

Her words came out flat and dull.

Confusion shot through him, muddling his previous annoyance towards her.

“For what? Why? You didn’t do anything!”

Peko took a deep breath, as though trying to steady herself, braids bobbing slightly with her inhale. Her features stayed consistent, not a single muscle out of place.

“You’re not supposed to get hurt.”

Fuyuhiko blinked, rustling through his memories of the last few weeks, and only one in which he got hurt stood out to him.

“Is this ‘cause of the thing that happened, like, two weeks ago!?” He recalled the large men shoving him into the van, remembering the fear that shot through him as he watched Peko brutally cut their throats.

Peko averted her eyes for a split second, and that told him all that he needed to know.

Fuyuhiko rubbed his left temple with the heel of his hand. “Why are they still mad at you for that!? It’s not like anything happened, I’m fine!”

“They said it shouldn't have happened in the first place.”

“Well what is that supposed to mean!” Fuyuhiko was getting frustrated again, but not with her.

“It means I…” Peko’s gaze flickered to the shinai she had set down beside her. 

“I did bad.”

Fuyuhiko frowned. “Yeah it was scary but we’re okay now cause you…” His words petered off, refusing to acknowledge that he had watched Peko single handedly kill two large men. “You made sure they didn’t hurt us. I don’t think that’s bad.” 

Peko shook her head slightly. He didn’t get it; of course he didn’t 

“A tool isn’t supposed to be bad. A tool isn’t supposed to be defective. A t—”

“A what!?”

Fuyuhiko interrupted her, startling her slightly. He now sat in front of her, a look of bewilderment and betrayal painted clearly on his face.

“What do you mean tool!?”

He didn’t know. Of course he didn’t. He never did.

Peko took another deep breath, ready to recite the words that had been so deeply ingrained in her that not even the sharpest knife could dig them out.

“My purpose as a tool is to protect and serve you, young master, heir to the Kuzuryu clan. You are the most important thing in my life and no harm should come to you as long as I am alive.”

Sadness and confusion flashed once more across the young boy’s features. Not even a blow from Peko’s shinai could compare to the hurt he felt coursing through his heart.

“Tool? Serve!? Peko, I thought we were...friends...?”

Fear flickered in her eyes. The stone cracked, only for a moment.

“I...”

“Peko what’s going on!?” 

The tears were evident in his voice as he cried out to her, almost pleadingly, and every part of her wanted to lunge forward and hug him close. She wanted to tell him that everything would be okay, that they could go on being best friends, and then ask him if he wanted to go outside and play hide and seek out in the courtyard.

But the worsening red welt across her face was a painful reminder that those days were long gone.

She reached up and felt the spot where his father had hit her, reminding her that she was lucky to be alive and with them, that tools were disposable and that she’d better not let it happen again.

“Everything is fine.” Her coldness returned as her fingertips rested on her left cheek, feeling the heat emanate from the part that burned like fire.

Fuyuhiko’s eyes trailed up her arm and to where her hand touched her face, and distress overtook him once again as he remembered the initial reason for his concern. His previous anger and confusion fell away, being replaced with concern for who he thought was his friend.

“We need...we need to get you some ice for that!” He rubbed the tears that were beginning to brim in the corners of his eyes out on the sleeve of his arm as he pushed himself up from the floor.

Peko stayed put.

“Are you coming?”

She said nothing, just as she often did.

Truthfully, she did not want him to go out of his way for her, but the burning on her cheek was beginning to grow more intense by the second.

“Okay, um...you don’t have to. I can just...bring it here,” he decided after a moment. Peko just nodded silently, not looking at his face.

She was never letting him do things for her; maybe this would be the one time he could.

He reached the door frame and turned around once more to take a look at her. She was still in the same sitting position, her eyes turned downward once more, no observable expression present on her face. It was as though she was truly nothing more than a statue situated in the middle of this tiny room, simply waiting to be observed.

“I’ll...be right back, okay Peko?”

She said nothing, kept her eyes trained to the floor.

Fuyuhiko turned around and exited the room, hurrying to find the family’s nurse to fetch an ice pack for his supposed friend.

He did not see her begin to cry as soon as he was out of sight.

—

Maki shoved ice cubes into a plastic sandwich bag as she heard the door to the warehouse slam shut, the echo of metal reverberating through the walls.

Shooting one last nasty look towards the closed door, Maki slammed the freezer door shut and pressed the plastic bag to her face, trying to soothe the pain that still remained on her left cheek.

She hadn’t been doing anything wrong, really; just trying to sneak up to the roof after curfew. It had been about 10:30 pm, way past her bedtime, but Maki had heard that there was going to be a full moon tonight and she wanted to get a good look at it. Unfortunately, she had been far louder than she’d realized, and the mean caretaker woman had found her while she was halfway up the ladder to the roof. This earned her a good smack across the face along with several harsh words that Maki wouldn’t be caught dead repeating. After a good yelling, the woman had stormed out, cursing about some “ungrateful kids” and “shitty attitudes.” Maki had tuned it all out like she always did, and made a beeline for the freezer as soon as the woman had left, searching for ice to numb the hot pain that now seared across her face.

“Stupid lady,” Maki mumbled to herself as she felt the coldness of the ice against her skin, combatting the burning sensation that accompanied the red mark.

“You know, you really shouldn’t be doing that sorta stuff.”

Maki whirled around to see a girl she’d seen around the warehouse a couple times before. She was tall and blonde, with deep brown eyes and several scars scattered across her skin in various places. She was far past Maki’s height, and Maki assumed that she was about 13 or 14. She was often seen being taken away by the men in black suits, never complaining, but she always left with a familiar steely glint in her eye.

“Whatever,” Maki growled, pressing the ice closer to her face.

The girl took a knife out of her back pocket, one that Maki recognized as a balisong; she remembered watching one of her classmates twirl it around while she sat a ways away from him with Peko a month or two ago.

The girl in front of her now did the same, lazily doing tricks with the complicated looking knife in her right hand, twisting and spinning it around without even looking.

“You really shouldn’t make them mad.”

Maki narrowed her eyes. _‘Who the heck does this girl think she is!?’_ she thought, annoyed.

“I wasn’t trying to,” Maki spat bitterly. Her cheek felt as if it was on fire.

The girl raised her eyebrows slightly in an almost condescending manner. “Really? Cause you were being really loud,” she said, laughter nearly leaking into her voice.

Maki scowled. “I wasn’t trying to be. I just wanted to go to the roof.” Her whole face burned now, and not from the smack she’d received earlier.

The girl in front of her gave a small laugh, one not condescending or mean. “I get it, it’s fine. I was just joking around.”

Maki didn’t laugh.

The girl sighed and gave the balisong one last twirl, snapping it shut.

“If you wanna get to the roof, there’s a ladder to the left of the building outside. Be careful not to fall.”

She then turned around and soundlessly walked to one of the doors to the small units in the warehouse, opening and closing it without another word.

Maki stood in the same spot, mouth slightly agape, still stunned from the recent interaction. After registering the words that the nameless girl told her, they finally clicked in her mind and she turned on her heel to the back door of the warehouse where the caretaker woman usually took her smoke breaks. Being careful to be extra quiet this time, Maki pulled the door open with her free hand to be met with a gust of cold nighttime air.

Pulling her secondhand sweater that was too large for her tighter around her small body, Maki walked a couple steps to the side of the building before finding a ladder that did indeed seem to reach the top of the roof. A tiny triumphant grin spread across her face, and she shoved the bag of ice into the large pocket in the middle of the sweater. Her hands reached out and grasped the side of the metal ladder, determined to not look down.

Despite the ice being absent from her face, the burning sensation was beginning to secede as the night air cooled her raw skin. As she pulled herself up to the roof of the warehouse, Maki caught her breath and straightened herself up, rolling her shoulders and feeling the frigid wind kiss her cheeks.

Maki walked to the middle of the rooftop, her eyes glued up to the sky, searching for the moon that she’d come up here to see in the first place.

It hung in the sky, an opalescent ball of light in the middle of the dark blue sky, clouds parted to give her a clear view. Maki sighed and plopped herself down on the dirty floor of the roof, trying to ignore the chill that was beginning to creep up the holes in her sweater. 

_‘I’ll just stay here for a little bit,’_ she decided as she pulled her knees to her chest, her eyes still gazing up at the moon. The cold night air was reminiscent of the same one that rushed down her back as she stood at the dead end of an alley, holding a knife that dripped with the blood of a stranger. Maki shut her eyes, trying to shove that thought to the back of her mind, instead pulling up a different memory that was less painful to think of.

Yua’s laughter rang out in her mind; her laughter had always been high pitched and squeaky, and Maki had always told her that she sounded like a dog toy as a joke, but that only made her laugh even more. Now, Maki found the corners of her mouth turning upwards as she recalled all of the kids at the orphanage she had left behind.

“If you do this, you’ll be providing a lot of money to this place,” a man with black sunglasses and a black suit had explained to her. “You’re going to help them a lot, but you’re not going to come back.” He had put it plain and simple for the child that stood in front of him with determination etched into her brow.

“I know,” she had said bluntly, Yua’s tears fresh in her mind as she climbed into the black car, refusing to look back.

Maki felt another gust of wind brush up against her neck, causing goosebumps to sprout on her arms. “I hope you’re okay, Yua,” she said softly to herself as she tried to hold onto the sound of her laughter the best that she could. Every day it faded more and more, becoming slightly more muddled and distorted each time she tried to remember the true sound of it.

“I hope you all are,” Maki murmured sadly as she watched a grey cloud cross in front of the moon, memories of all the other kids at the orphanage popping up in small bits. By now she could hardly remember the sounds of all of their voices, but she longed to hear them all one more time despite constantly telling them that they all sounded annoying.

“Cause I’m only doing this for you guys.”

Her last sentence drifted away into the wind, heard by no one.

—

“Do you like dogs?”

A week later, Maki had held a shinai in her hands once again while Peko gripped her blade in her own, following each other’s movements as though by memory; by now, they knew each other effortlessly and could spar without speaking. When Maki swung to land a blow to Peko’s shoulder, Peko dodged on cue. When Peko lurched forward to jab Maki’s arm, she swerved out of the way instantly. When holding the other’s weapon in her hand, it was almost as though they possessed a part of each other; when she gripped Maki's knife in her fingers, Peko could almost feel Maki’s thoughts and movement pouring out of the blade, whispering the brown haired girl’s feelings and secrets. Likewise, when she grasped the handle of Peko’s shinai, Maki felt as though she held a part of Peko’s self inbetween her fingertips, like Peko’s thoughts and emotions possessed the very sword that she held. Fights between the two became more of a dance, well rehearsed and graceful. The two became ballerinas dancing on a deadly stage, wielding knives and swords during a performance of both elegance and barbarity.

Peko’s eyes lit up, a rare sight to see, and she almost dropped the onigiri she was holding.

“I love them!”

Maki gave a small smirk as she reached towards the open bento box, picking up a piece of onigiri for herself.

“What kind of dogs do you like?”

Peko thought for a second. “I really like the fluffy ones, like akitas. But any dog, really. I think they’re all cute!” Peko took a bite out of the rice ball, eyes still bright with excitement.

“Do you have a dog?” she asked Maki, hopefulness etched into her voice.

Maki shook her head. “No, they don’t like animals there. One of the boys brought home a stray cat once, and they made him let it go.” Maki chewed the inside of her cheek. “I dunno what happened to it though.”

Peko’s face drooped in disappointment. “Aww, poor kitty,” she mumbled as she took another bite.

Maki took a bite of her own onigiri, turning her attention to Peko. “What about you? Do you have any pets?”

Peko swallowed her bite, sadness washing over her face. “No. Animals don’t really like me. Young master Fuyu says it’s ‘cause I’m scary.” She looked up at Maki, the hurt evident in her face.

“Do you think I’m scary?”

Maki pondered the question for a moment.

“No.”

A tiny grin appeared on Peko’s face.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” The corners of Maki’s mouths curved up. She posed the same question.

“Do you think _I’m_ scary?”

Peko shook her head. “No.”

“Well I don’t think you’re scary either!” 

Peko giggled. “You just said that!”

Maki laughed. “Well I said it again!”

Peko stuck her tongue out at Maki, and Maki stuck her tongue out back, and the two of them erupted in an uncommon fit of giggles that neither of them had heard from themselves before.

“You’re weird,” Maki said bluntly, but in a lighthearted fashion.

Peko took a large bite of another piece of onigiri. “So are you.”

Maki reached for another rice ball herself, stifling another laugh.

“I guess we’re both weird.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The two sat side by side in an easy silence for a while, marinating in their previous laughter and chomping down rice balls before moving on to the steamed vegetables in another compartment in Maki’s bento.

“Peko,” Maki found herself saying unexpectedly.

“Hm?” Peko turned her attention away from the piece of broccoli in her hand.

“Uhm...” Maki chewed the inside of her cheek. She raked her fingers through her pigtail, thinking.

“How...do you...” Maki scrunched her eyes shut, embarrassment the color pink flushing her cheeks.

“How do you get your hair like that?”

Peko lowered the piece of broccoli down. “What do you mean?”

“Like...that. Braided,” Maki said as she pointed to one of Peko’s neatly plaited braids that hung elegantly off the side of her head.

That rare brightness returned to her eyes, glittering like rubies. 

“Oh, braids? Young mistress Natsumi showed me. She said that they’re,” Peko made air quotes with both of her hands for her next sentence. “‘Cute and functional.’ I can do them on you if you want,” she said, popping the broccoli into her mouth, childish excitement taking root in her heart.

“Really?” Maki fiddled with her pigtail, despising her awkwardness. 

“Of course,” Peko said, pushing herself up from the ground and walking behind Maki, situating herself behind her.

“Well...okay. Since you said so,” Maki sputtered, delighted but refusing to show it.

Peko pulled the red scrunchie Maki used to hold her right twintail together, letting Maki’s hair flow freely. It was down to right past the middle of her back, much longer than Peko’s.

“When did you last cut your hair?”

Maki gave it a quick thought. “I’ve never cut my hair.”

Peko took the large section of hair and began separating it into three. “Really? Mr. Kuzuryu makes me cut mine every month. He says that if it gets too long it’ll cause trouble.” Peko frowned slightly remembering the speech he’d given her about the importance of her hair, telling her that she must keep it neat and functional so it would never get in the way of her duties.

“Your hair is really pretty. I wish I could have it long like this,” she commented as she began criss-crossing the right section over the middle. Peko relished how the long locks felt inbetween her fingertips; Maki’s hair was naturally soft and glossy and a shade of deep brown that reminded her of dark chocolate.

Maki found herself blushing profusely. “It’s okay,” she mumbled. “It gets tangled and annoying sometimes.”

“Well I still think it’s nice,” Peko said as she finished the first braid, securing it at the end with Maki’s scrunchie. It looked a bit odd, being tied with a rather oversized hair tie, but it did its job.

Peko moved to pull the scrunchie holding the left pigtail out of it’s hold, watching as Maki’s hair fell gracefully down her back, like a river flowing down a mountain.

“And I think your pigtails look nice too,” Peko noted as she began splitting the section into three. “I’ve never had my hair like that. He says I always have to have it ‘manageable.’” She struggled slightly trying to pronounce the big word, sounding it out by syllable. 

Maki did not have to ask who “he” was.

The brown haired girl chewed her cheek as Peko began crossing the three strands over one another, forming a neat and orderly braid. “I can put your hair like that...if you want?” Maki hesitated slightly. She wasn’t sure if Peko would be interested in wearing her hair slightly looser than usual; she was, after all, the kind of person who valued function over everything.

From behind Maki’s head, Peko’s eyes lit up like headlights. “Yes, please!” Her serious tone fell away for a moment, replaced by childish excitement and glee as her face flushed pink. Maki found herself smiling, her cheeks growing a similar rouge color.

Finally, Peko secured the large scrunchie at the bottom of the braid. Despite having small hands, Peko’s handiwork left not one strand of hair out of place. It was tight enough to maintain its orderly shape, but still loose enough to the point where Maki didn’t feel like her scalp was being pulled backwards.

“All done.”

Maki reached over shoulder to examine the braid; her hair appeared slightly shorter now in its plaited state, but it was still lengthy enough to trail over her shoulder so Maki could get a proper look at it. She ran her fingers over each of the places where the pieces intersected, feeling the satisfying bumps and ridges and valleys they formed within the strand.

“Thank you,” Maki said softly. “I don’t know how to braid, so...” She struggled for words, searching for the right terms in her limited vocabulary.

“It’s nice,” she finally decided.

Peko got up and walked to the front of Maki, plopping herself down in front of her, the hint of a smile breaking through her usual neutral composure.

“Of course,” she said formally. “I’m glad you like it.”

Maki’s eyes trailed upwards to Peko’s braids, her former idea of doing Peko’s hair still fresh in her mind.

“Do you want me to do yours now?”

Peko’s face flushed their rare rosy color and she scrunched her nose up. Asking for things was difficult. Saying yes to little pleasures like this was difficult.

But with Maki, it was not impossible.

“Yes please,” she finally said, the color not leaving her face.

Maki gave her a tiny smile. “Okay. Turn around.”

Peko scooted 180° so that the back of her head was facing Maki, and soon enough she felt Maki’s hands reach towards the end of her braid and fiddling with the small hair tie that held the ends together. She felt Maki do the same with the other side, and soon enough her braids were completely undone, hair fluttering like ribbons in the wind.

She felt Maki run her small hands through the strands of hair, melding the three sections that were previously braids into large, tangible sections that resembled pigtails, sitting high on either side of her head. It was odd, feeling her hair fall freely onto her shoulders, unbound from their usually neat and regulated shape.

Maki slowly pulled the large hair ties out of the tops of both of the high pigtails, ruffling Peko’s now loose hair. Her touch was delicate and fine, never ripping at any knots or tangles. As Maki gently combed Peko’s hair with her small fingers, Peko closed her eyes, soothed by the feeling of Maki’s hands brushing lightly against her scalp and through her thick silver hair.

When her hair had a thorough amount of volume, Maki took the large hair ties that had previously been holding the top of Peko’s braids and parted her hair in half, securing the large section near the back of Peko’s ear where Maki usually tied her own. She did the same to the other side, and all of Peko’s fears and worries temporarily washed away as she felt her hair being skillfully tied with hands as nimble as her own, the feelings of trust and safety suddenly becoming something known to her for the first time in her life.

“Okay, it’s done.”

Peko opened her eyes and lifted her hand up to her shoulder, where she was met with a section of hair falling down the front of it. A light gasp escaped her mouth as she stroked the long portion of hair that was usually kept in a rigid, plaited state, and she savored the feeling of free hair tumbling down in a freeform state.

“Thank you,” Peko said tenderly, another tiny smile breaking her stony exterior. Maki pushed herself up from the ground and took her place in front of Peko, sitting down cross legged to examine her handiwork.

“Do you like it?”

Peko lifted her eyes up from her pigtail, looking up to meet those familiar eyes as blood red as her own.

“Yes.”

Maki returned her smile, satisfied.

“You look pretty,” Maki said, observing the way Peko’s silver hair trailed down the front of her like an icy ridge, giving the appearance of a snow covered forest in the winter.

Peko’s grin intensified, a blush creeping up to her face once again.

“So do you.”

Maki reached up to feel her braids once again, cheeks growing magenta.

“I feel pretty.”

Peko gave a tiny laugh, one that sounded like wind chimes in the summer.

“Me too.”

—

“You look nice.”

The blonde girl Maki had encountered a week ago sat on the kitchen countertop and watched as Maki closed the door to the warehouse, nose pink from her cold walk home.

“Huh?” Maki rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them up.

“Your hair,” the girl pointed out, jutting her chin forward to gesture towards Maki.

“Oh.”

Maki was unsure what to say, so she just chewed the inside of her cheek again and ran her hand along the braid once again, memorizing where each section crossed and where each one dipped.

The girl hopped down from the countertop and headed towards what Maki assumed was her room, running her hands through her hair as she walked.

“By the way,”

Maki looked up.

The girl reached the door and put her hand on the knob, ready to turn.

“It’s nice to see you not frowning.”

She opened the door to her room without another word, the sound of the lock echoing throughout the empty warehouse.

The braids stayed in Maki’s hair for three days before she was forced to take them out to shower.

—

“You look nice.”

Fuyuhiko watched as Peko stepped out of the black SUV, waiting on a bench in the courtyard for her to return. She wondered how long he’d been sitting there, embarrassed at the thought.

“Oh. Thank you,” she responded, straightening out her sword bag on her back, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the compliment.

“Who did those?”

Fuyuhiko tilted his head slightly, his eyes scanning the silver locks that trailed gracefully down the fronts of Peko’s shoulders. He’d never seen her with anything other than her braids and occasionally in a ponytail or a bun when she didn’t have time to do them; pigtails had never been anything he thought she’d been drawn to or interested in.

“Um...just another girl.” Peko shifted her weight, unsure how to answer, and even more uncertain if she should reveal to him where she went to once a week, escorted by a black SUV.

“Oh. Is she a friend?”

Fuyuhiko’s eyes bore no malice, just regular curiosity, but Peko couldn’t help but feel like she was being interrogated. However, she felt that she had no choice but to answer; whatever he wanted she had to give, and that also included answers.

“No.”

_‘No friends. Not here.’_

“Oh. Well she did a good job anyway.”

Peko raked her fingers through her right pigtail just as she’d seen Maki do dozens of times before.

“Yes...she did.”

  
  


Peko kept the pigtails in for the rest of the day before Mr. Kuzuryu saw her and demanded that she take them out, stating angrily that they “weren’t functional” and “would weigh her down,” threatening another “punishment” should he see her like that again. Fuyuhiko had angrily argued, yelling at his father that Peko could do whatever she wanted, but she had quietly told him not to cause such a scene for the likes of her. In the midst of a fight between the two, Peko had silently excused herself to the closest bathroom to take one last look at a reflection of herself with pigtails in the mirror.

She ran her hand along the length of them one last time before pulling the hair ties out, gloomily twisting her hair into a low bun.

_‘I’m sorry, Maki,’_ she thought sadly as she secured the last strand of hair into place, already missing the feeling of snowy mountaintops running down the fronts of her shoulders.

_‘It was nice for a bit, anyway.’_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rlly wanted to make it clear that "hey, these r literally little kids. they r still children who like doing stuff little girls do." :,)


	4. "Promise?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Another content warning for violence (we are at a fighting school after all) and light violence/threats against children cause you know, it's Peko and Maki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii to the 3 Peko/Maki lovers out there, feel free to follow my twitter @hunnieb33 for more updates on this story and stuffs! <3

It was nearly mid-January now, snow falling steadily around the warehouse that was already consistently cold in the first place. Maki had been provided with a basic winter coat and some small, secondhand boots to trek through the snow; other than that, she was pretty much all on her own.

She shut the door to the warehouse, shaking the snow from her twintails. Condensation settled on the tip of her nose, and Maki pulled her bare, frostbitten hands from her pockets to rub the wetness off her face with the sleeve of her coat, forgetting that the coat was also just as damp. She let out a huff of air from her cheeks, brows knitting together in her signature frown as she trudged towards her room, shoving her hands back into her pockets in an attempt to warm them up.

It had been a rather rough day. Maki had been fighting a larger boy in her class, one that carried some sort of scimitar, and he had bested her in combat, something that rarely happened with her. She now sported a shallow cut that ran about half the length of her upper arm. It wasn’t fatal by any means, but the walk home in the snow had not done it any favors. The cold air bit at the wound from underneath her coat, ensuring that it stayed open and raw despite the thin layer of bandages that wrapped around it.

As Maki walked across the warehouse to her room, she rubbed at the place on her arm where the cut resided, trying to fend off the feeling of needles piercing into her skin. 

“Hey.”

She was about halfway across the room to her small unit when she heard a familiar voice.

The blonde girl stood in front of her own room again; it was situated more towards the back of the warehouse, whereas Maki’s was more towards the middle. She began making her way over to Maki as the little girl silently watched, a scowl still etched onto her face.

“Relax, I was just gonna give you these.”

The older girl reached into the pockets of her own winter coat and threw a small bundle of fabric towards Maki’s face. Reflexively, Maki reached out and caught it without flinching, her freezing fingers wrapping around the fluffy material.

Maki brought the ball of fabric to her face, analyzing it. “What is this?” she asked before fully taking it in. She realized that there were actually two items to it, and the question stupidly left her mouth right after she realized what they were.

“They’re mittens, obviously.” The older blonde girl rolled her eyes before taking a much larger pair out of her other pockets, slipping them onto her own hands. Maki rubbed the material with her fingers; they were clearly well made, and not secondhand. In fact, they seemed almost new, and were far nicer than anything that the caretakers at this facility provided to the kids in training.

Maki continued to rub the fabric in between her thumb and index finger, relishing the softness of the object. She had never owned anything this nice or new before, and she knew that nobody else in this place did either. A thought dawned on her.

“Where...did you get these?”

The girl froze for a second as she was putting on her mittens, a coy smile spreading across her face.

“You won’t tell?”

Maki’s thoughts whirled around in her head, like she already knew the answer to her own question.

“No.”

The blonde smirked as she fastened her own mittens around her hands, checking to make sure they were tight around her wrist and covered as much skin as possible.

“Well then...they were free.”

Her suspicions were confirmed. So this girl had in fact stolen them.

Maki had never stolen anything before; she was young and inexperienced and was still afraid of getting caught. However, she’d heard of other kids stealing small things. It was never anything too big, just small things like extra snacks at a supermarket or a cute pen at a convenience store or, perhaps, a pair of mittens that the caretakers were not willing to provide, even in the middle of winter. She had never done it herself, but the gears in her head began turning as she rubbed the fuzzy fabric in between her fingers once again.

The older blonde girl began walking towards the door that Maki had just come into, ready to head outside into the snow with her newly snug mittens. As she breezed past Maki, the younger girl couldn’t help but turn around and pose a question that had been racking the back of her mind since she’d been given this odd gift.

“Wait.”

The blonde girl paused as she got to the door. She turned around, an eyebrow raised. Maki’s frown contorted into one less that of annoyance and more one of confusion.

“Why did you get these?”

The girl gave a small laugh. “Cause it’s cold? Duh.”

“No, I mean...why did you get these...for me?”

The other girl rolled her eyes again. “I already told you. ‘Cause it’s cold.” She gave a small smirk, one filled with sarcasm and a hint of something else that Maki couldn’t quite understand yet.

“Plus little ones can’t kill if they don’t have their fingers, right?”

Maki stood silently with nothing to say, the mittens still clutched in her hands. She scrunched her nose slightly, a habit she had picked up from someone at some point, and let out a small puff of air from her cheeks as she stared at the girl with annoyance burning in her eyes.

The blonde turned around and opened the door, the snow filled air rushing into the warehouse, and soon enough closed it without another word.

Maki stormed off towards her room, the mittens clenched tightly in her closed fist, and pulled her own door open. She threw the mittens down onto her cot with a bit too much force, causing one of them to bounce off the mattress and onto the floor below. Maki flung herself onto her cot and grabbed her only pillow, burying her face into it and willing herself not to scream.

_ ‘Breathe.’ _

A familiar voice echoed in the back of her mind.

_ ‘Breathe.’ _

Peko sat next to her after her rough sparring match with the boy, wrapping her upper arm in a thin bandage from the first aid kit that their sensei had given them. It seemed the two of them needed to utilize it often.

“Breathe,” she had said as she applied an antibiotic to the open wound. She told her that this would sting. Maki grit her teeth as she tried not to wince from the pain that shot through her whole arm.

_ ‘Breathe.’ _

Maki took a deep breath in and realized she was shaking. 

She exhaled as she demanded her body to stop.

Immediately the world stood still.

_ ‘Breathe,’  _ Maki thought as she raised her head, taking another deep breath as she uncovered her face from her pillow.

_ ‘Breathe,’  _ she thought to herself as she grabbed the mitten on her bed and placed it on her small bedside table.

_ ‘Breathe,’  _ she thought to herself as she got down from her cot and picked the lone mitten up off of the floor and placed it next to its counterpart.

She took a long look at the two mittens next to each other, taking in the actual image of them for the first time. They were a pair of simple black wool mittens, but they had little white snowflakes embroidered at the wristband portion of them. They really were quite cute, and for the first time since receiving them Maki felt more or less grateful that she wouldn’t have to risk losing her fingers every time she walked home now.

Despite that, her stomach still curdled at the girl’s reasoning. The image of a man bleeding out flashed in front of her eyes for a moment, and she could still recall the warm red that spilled over her hands, how her fingers curled tightly around the knife handle. Maki closed her eyes and rubbed them with the back of her hands, willing the sick feeling in her stomach to go away.

She sighed, knowing it was all in vain.

Maki opened her eyes and took another deep breath. There was only one thing that made her feel better whenever she felt like this.

The little girl dropped to her knees and got down on the floor, reaching underneath her bed to pull out a small, dingy shoebox. It was a plain brown cardboard box, clearly weathered and rather dirty, but Maki’s rare smile appeared as soon as she held it in her hands, brushing the layer of dust that had accumulated on the top of it. She opened the lid and examined the few trinkets she kept within it.

Inside lay a small, raggedy blanket that was practically being held together by a couple threads, a pair of extra red scrunchies, a pink bouncy ball, and a photograph slightly torn at the corner.

Maki ran her fingers over the thin blanket. Although she knew that its original color was an off-white, it was essentially a light grey now. She’d often carried it around with her at the orphanage and always slept with it beside her, but she was never sure where she had gotten it from. When she’d asked the woman who ran the orphanage where it had come from, the woman had stopped and smiled something sad.

_ ‘You were wrapped in this when we found you on the doorstep.’ _

Maki’s eyes fixated longingly on the only thing that her mother left her, the feeling of old cotton being the only reminder that at some point in time in her life, she really did have someone to call mom.

She never knew anything about her, only that she’d left Maki on the doorstep of the orphanage wrapped in this off-white blanket and a small note tucked into it reading “Feb 2.” It would be February in a few weeks. She would be turning 7.

Maki wondered if her mother was still out there and if she even remembered—or cared—that it was her birthday soon.

She tore her gaze away from the tattered fabric, hoping to be free from the heartache that it induced, and picked up the photograph. Her smile returned as she looked at her own softly smiling face next to Yua’s.

“Smile!” one of the women who worked at the orphanage had brought a polaroid camera one day, hoping to capture someone looking happy for “publicity.” Yua had excitedly dragged Maki over, eager to get her picture taken, and Maki had broken out her small smile for the one person she called her friend. The picture had been posted on a bulletin board in the orphanage along with several other polaroids of other kids, and Maki had sneakily swiped it the day she had to climb into a black car and leave the real Yua behind forever.

Maki’s eyes now focused on the only person she could remember smiling for. 

She wished she’d smiled just a bit bigger.

—

“You’re acting weird.”

Peko’s eyes blinked nothing as Fuyuhiko stood in front of her, his hands on his hips. She stood up straight, her shinai strapped neatly to her back, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. She had been silently following around Fuyuhiko all day, just as she did yesterday, and the day before that, and so on. Peko was determined to learn how to be better, how to best serve and protect him, but Fuyuhiko didn’t quite seem to understand what she was supposed to be there for.

Now they stood in the middle of his room, Fuyuhiko’s frustration getting the best of him.

“What?”

“I said, you’re acting weird.”

Peko dipped her head to her chest. “I apologize, I w—”

Fuyuhiko stomped his foot. “See! That’s weird! Why have you been acting so weird lately! You keep following me around without saying anything, and apologizing a lot, and calling me ‘young master,’ and you keep calling yourself a tool! It’s weird! You’re weird!”

Peko kept her head held low and said nothing.

Fuyuhiko let out a long sigh of irritation. “Whatever. I have to do homework now and if you’re just gonna stand there and do nothing, can you at least go be outside the door?” His voice was laced with a small hint of sadness that almost begged her to fight back, one that Peko chose to ignore.

“Of course,” she said formally. Every day her tone became more adult-like. It made him feel small and childish and immature, and Fuyuhiko rolled his eyes as he turned away from her.

She did not raise her head until she was facing away from him, silently opening his door and exiting the room with easy compliance.

Fuyuhiko threw himself onto his bed, ignoring the math worksheets that sat on his desk waiting to be done. He wrapped his arms around one of his large pillows, sucking in his cheeks and holding back tears that threatened to rush through. The snow swirled outside his window, coating the tree branches in a layer of silver that was so familiar to him.

When had she become so cold?

Peko closed the door quietly, ignoring the tugging feeling at her chest. She did as she was told and stood outside the door, alert and attentive to everything within her field of vision.

“Do you know what you are?”

A voice much older than Fuyuhiko resonated in the back of her head, settling in her ears.

“A tool.” The word was carved by her own hand into her tongue, tasting like bamboo.

“Do you know what your purpose is?” it asked again.

“To protect and serve the young master.” They felt like the metal and knives that met her skin every week.

“And what happens to tools that are defective?” 

“They are thrown away.” She felt herself dangle on the end of a string, the sharp blades of scissors snipping from just inches away, a mocking reminder of her disposability.

The man much older than Fuyuhiko had smiled, familiar and cruel, not like the one that Maki had given her a few days ago as she wrapped her arm up in a bandage after a rough fight. His grin was condescending and uncaring, not like hers.

“Good. I’m glad that you’re understanding now.” He’d thrown her a sharp look, one that she’d come to associate with the sinking feeling in her stomach. He had lurched forward, hand raised and mouth curled up in a snarl, and Peko had stood firmly and not flinched, maintaining eye contact as he pulled back, faking her out. A laugh filled with something sadistic escaped him, yet Peko had not moved or shown any reaction whatsoever, determined to show him that she could be what they wanted her to be.

“Then do not let him down.”

“I won’t.” The answer was automatic. She decided that she was made for this.

Peko stood in front of Fuyuhiko’s door now, as vigilant as possible. She saw everything, heard everything, made sure nothing escaped her while she did exactly what she believed she was born to do.

_ ‘Do not let him down.’ _

Her eyes burned with determination as she pushed the key into her heart and buried it where it would never see the sun, locking it away so it could never be found.

—

“When is your birthday?”

Today, Peko had held the shinai in her hands, chest heaving as she stared down Maki’s blood red eyes that matched her own, both of them teeming with viciousness and an inhuman desire to win. She had fought against the other boy in their class with a katana and had taken him down with ease; despite defeating him faster than anyone in the class, Peko now struggled against her equal, who stood in front of her with a blade gripped in her fingers. Over the last month or so, their sensei had pointed out that two of them knew the other too well. “Consistency with each other is dangerous. Change it up,” he had said a few weeks ago, and so they had.

Now, Maki was unpredictable, just as Peko was unpredictable. Now, neither of them knew where the other would strike next, and that’s what currently made fighting each other so challenging. The rest of the class watched them with deep intensity, fear brimming in a few kids’ eyes. Their sensei had praised them and used them as an example of exactly what it’s like to fight to kill.

Peko emerged from the fight with several shallow cuts on her shoulder and one on her neck, a rather dangerous spot to be cut in. Maki came out of it with a large bruise on her side the size of a baseball and an incredibly sore elbow where Peko’s shinai had smashed against her bone. Nothing was broken, but their sensei had praised their sheer brutality.

The two of them now sat side by side underneath the overhang of the dojo, chewing on gyoza from Maki’s bento and sheltering themselves from the snow that was lightly falling outside. They both wore very simple, basic coats that they’d been provided by their caretakers, and one of Maki’s hands was covered by a black mitten while the other bare one did the job of picking up food.

Peko frowned slightly, pondering the question about her birthday that Maki had just posed to her. “June 30.” she stated simply, taking a bite of the gyoza. It was cold, but still delicious, her tongue absorbing the savory flavors of meat and vegetables mixed together. Every week she thanked Maki for sharing, and every week Maki had rolled her eyes good-naturedly and told her not to mention it.

Maki popped a whole one into her mouth. “Mine is February 2. My mom said so in a little note when she left me there.” Peko stopped mid chew, whipping her head around to face Maki.

“That’s really soon!” 

Maki nodded, barely reacting. “Yeah, I guess so. I’ve never really done anything on it though.”

Peko turned to face forward, finishing chewing her piece of gyoza.

“Me neither.”

The small phrase was becoming more and more frequently used between the two of them.

Peko reached her hand down to the bento that was sat between the two of them, stuffing the other one deep into her pocket to shield it from the cold. She picked another piece of gyoza, taking a small bite out of it and concentrating on the light snow that was falling in front of them. It reminded her of the sprinkles that often adorned Fuyuhiko’s birthday cake, the thick icing always sugary and sickly sweet. He would inevitably ask her to take a bite and she would politely comply, trying to choke back the morbidly saccharin taste of the artificial flavoring, smiling through the discomfort and telling him that it was delicious.

“Maki, if you could have anything in the world on your birthday, what would it be?”

Maki stared out into the winter just as the girl beside her did, taking in the scenery. Everyone at the orphanage had always loved the winter; some kids would even decorate the place for Christmas, putting up cheap multicolored lights that always had a couple bulbs burnt out or lighting candles to give a more pleasant, homey feel to the usually depressing building. A handful of kids always went out in the snow against their caretaker’s advice, building flimsy snowmen in their thin clothing and always coming back inside shivering with frosty smiles on their faces. The buildings across the street would put up bright lights and the shops would put bundles of toys up in the windows to sell to parents shopping for their children, and Maki could only imagine the way their eyes would light up as they unwrapped their new doll or their new toy car, face brimming with excitement. 

Winter always reminded Maki of a time when families would get together and celebrate in their warm, happy households and exchange presents to show their love. It was all but a grim reminder of everything that she would never have.

“I would want a big house on a lake somewhere sunny. Somewhere where there was no winter, not like right now.” Maki spread her arms out wide, signifying how big she’d want her house to be, her tiny arms not even close to totally encompassing just how large she wanted it.

Peko took a piece of edamame from Maki’s bento, extracting the beans out with her teeth. They were just as cold as the air around them, but she didn’t mind.

“Why a lake?”

Maki closed her eyes and tilted her head back, feeling the cold wind rush through her long hair. She recalled the singular time one of the women who volunteered at the orphanage took her and a couple other kids to some lake out in the countryside, how the water had rippled calmly and slowly, not like the roughness of the ocean. She and Yua had run to the edge of the lake, taking their shoes off as they ran, the tall grass waving idly as they rushed past. The feeling of cold water against bare skin was still fresh on her mind.

“So I could go swimming whenever I wanted.”

Peko’s infrequent smile made an appearance, warm and happy.

“That sounds fun.”

Maki opened her eyes, her irises glittering like rubies just as they did when she was only around her silver haired companion.

“Plus, if there was no winter, the lake would never freeze over.”

The girl beside her let loose one of her rare laughs, face pink, but not from the cold.

Maki smiled as she listened to Peko laugh, and found herself smiling too. Daydreams of lakeside living and cold, clear water were ever present in the back of her head. 

“If the lake never froze over, then that means we could go swimming whenever we wanted,” Maki mused, staring at the swirling snow.

Peko sighed softly as she took another piece of edamame, chewing on the beans slowly as she gazed out into the winter alongside the brown haired girl.

“If I was there, I’d want to have a lot of cute animals,” she added as she swallowed her food. “I’d want to have an akita, and a shiba, and a big, fat corgi! And some kitties too.” Peko’s eyes sparkled at the thought, the feeling of soft fur just barely out of reach in her made up fantasy.

Maki’s smile grew larger. She turned to face the girl sitting beside her, the excitement on her clear as day.

“Peko, one day,”

Her heart beat faster at the thought.

“What if when we grew up, we lived in a big lake house together? And we went swimming every morning and we had a bunch of cute animals and we could…” Maki’s head swirled with possibilities. “We could eat chips for breakfast and pancakes for dinner if we wanted to!”

Peko’s face broke out into a huge smile, stars spilling from her eyes.

“I would have a big akita named Fluff Ball and a corgi named Dumpling!”

The two little girls burst out laughing, and for a long while they couldn’t stop, a warm feeling in their chest growing stronger as their cheeks grew sore from smiling.

As Maki caught her breath, she rubbed a tear of laughter from her eye, and grew oddly serious.

“Promise, Peko?”

Peko stopped giggling and her face morphed into an expression of surprise, taken aback by Maki’s statement.

“Promise what?”

“Promise that we’ll do it. We’ll live in a big house on a lake together with a bunch of cute animals one day.”

(Maki had always been strong. Maki had always been resilient. And against her own will, Maki had always been alone.)

The brown haired girl that was so used to solitude and self sufficiency held out her right hand, four fingers curled into a ball as she stuck out her bare pinkie.

(The feeling of worn cotton. A smile she wished was bigger.)

Peko stared at Maki’s outstretched pinkie. Fuyuhiko’s face flashed to the front of her mind.

_ ‘Do not let him down.’ _

The smack of a large man’s hand still held heat against her face. The familiar sinking feeling in her stomach returned, reminding her of her purpose, her reason for living.

_ ‘You live to serve. Nothing else.’ _

And yet, against every one of her instincts, Peko rebelled.

The silver haired girl that was only ever forced to obey wrapped her pinky finger around Maki’s, ignoring the voice inside her head that told her to pull back.

“I promise.”

The heat from both of their fingers wrapped around each other felt like a wildfire against the cold.

—

Maki closed the door to the warehouse after her walk home, her right hand still warm despite spending the most time out of it’s mitten. She watched as it shut, listening to the lock click, the sound of metal against metal resounding throughout the large building.

The small girl turned around and was met with three large men in black suits and dark sunglasses standing near the door.

The blonde she’d encountered multiple times stood several feet behind the group of men, her body tense and rigid and eyes bugging out, mouth slightly agape but still saying nothing. Maki realized that she mirrored the exact same expression of the man that she had killed weeks ago, and his terrified face right before she’d slit his throat flickered in the back of her head for one haunting moment.

Maki froze, her eyes narrowing as they scanned the three men. Her guard was raised tenfold, and she became hyper aware of the coldness of the knife that she kept strapped to her thigh.

One of the men cleared his throat.

“Maki Harukawa.”

Maki’s heart beat so fast she swore it would jump right out of her chest.

“Yes…”

The man smirked.

“So you’re the little young one here, huh?” The man speaking held a greater air of importance than the other two. He held his head high while the other two simply looked straight ahead, staying totally silent. Maki quickly posited that these two must be some sort of bodyguard to the one speaking.  _ ‘Good,’  _ she thought bitterly.  _ ‘Bodyguards don’t hurt you unless you hurt them first.’ _

The man who had spoken began moseying over to the kitchen area, a little bit too comfortable with the space for Maki’s taste. He hummed as he reached the countertop, tracing the edge of it with his index finger.

“Do you know why we’re here, Miss Harukawa?”

Maki said nothing for a moment, still trying to get her heart rate to slow down.

“No,” she answered honestly. Truthfully, there could be a number of reasons why they were here, and each one was worse than the last.

The man hummed again as he moved to open up one of the cabinets above the sink.

“Well, we hear you’ve been making important progress.” His hands were concealed by the open cabinet. Maki knew what they kept in there.

“Thank you,” Maki said through gritted teeth. She steeled herself not to lunge forward and stab this man to death.

“We’ve heard that you’ve even performed a hit already. Impressive for a child.”

The man’s hands stayed concealed. She kept her ears open for a certain sound. Her heart felt like it was going to burst.

“Thank you,” she repeated through a clenched jaw. She knew what she was capable of and at this point, she would use it.

“We have reason to believe that you are going to be—”

The man moved like lightning, flinging a plate directly at Maki. The white disk whirled towards her at an alarming speed, on route to smash straight into the middle of her forehead, when Maki threw her arm forward, catching the platter in her hand with ease.

Her heart showed no sign of stopping it’s quickening beat, the sound of rushing blood pounding in her ears as her tiny fingers curled around the rim of the plate, fingernails digging into the porcelain.

“...a valuable asset to us.”

The man finished as the corner of his mouth curled up in a sinister smile, one that was devoid of any sort of genuine praise or affection towards the girl that stood in front of him, plate still clenched in her outstretched hand.

Maki only looked at him silently with pure hate boiling hot in her veins, hoping that her glare was burning a hole right through the middle of his eyes that she could not see.

—

It was on a day where the snow was beginning to fall heavier now that Fuyuhiko and Natsumi were playing out in the courtyard, hurling snowballs at each other and laughing as they tripped over the thick blanket of white that now covered the entire Kuzuryu estate.

Peko stood watching silently from a ways away, nestled under the overhang of the mansion. She still wore her basic coat and small child sized snow boots, her hands curled into fists and tucked into her pockets. Her shinai was strapped nearly to her back as always.

“Peko, come play!” Fuyuhiko had beckoned her just minutes earlier, gesturing for her to come join him and his sister in the snow. Peko had just quietly shook her head, saying that she had to “watch over them” and that “tools don’t have a need to play,” and Fuyuhiko had rolled his eyes as always before getting hit in the back with a snowball from Natsumi. Peko was quickly forgotten as he turned his attention to getting revenge against his younger sister, their screams of joy ringing in the air.

The door beside her opened, and Peko immediately tensed up as she heard footsteps that she knew all too well.

“You did good.” A man’s deep voice was heard from above her as she kept her eyes forward, fixed on the children her age that were playing in the snow.

“Thank you,” she responded politely.

“You are right. Tools do not need to play.”

Peko nodded her head once. 

“I know.”

Her heart felt like it was being squeezed by his fists.

He let out a long sigh. She feared for the swing of his hands.

“Peko,” he began. It was not angry, yet the fear only grew stronger. 

“I want to give you something.”

Peko’s mask of neutrality broke for a split second, confusion and fear showing through for a mere few seconds.

“Yes?”

“Look at me.”

A command. She turned her head and lifted her stare to meet a pair of hollow, black eyes colder than the snow that bit her exposed skin. Fuyuhiko and Natsumi’s eyes being somewhat green-gold, they clearly had not gotten it from him.

“First, I must ask. How is your training going?”

Peko was unsure how to answer that.

“It’s...going good. I am learning a lot.”

The man smiled. It showed no warmth, no authenticity.

“Good. I’m glad to hear.”

Peko gave a half smile, one as false as the one in front of her.

“Now, Peko, you understand…”

The grip around her heart tightened. Blood threatened to spill from its sides.

“...why you are doing this, yes?”

Peko swallowed once, and nodded her head.

“Yes. I live to serve and protect as his tool.” She echoed the words that had been etched into her entire being. The taste of bamboo and metal lingered yet again.

He smiled again, frigid and unfeeling. “Good. Then you’ll understand why I am giving you this.”

He pulled a small sword bag from behind his back and held it out to her expectantly. Peko’s eyes widened as she took it into her hands, feeling the weight press into her palms. It was much heavier than her shinai, which could only mean one thing.

“This is a real katana.”

Peko stared at the bag as he told her what she already knew, the context behind the apparent gift not lost on her.

“You will be killing more from now on. And not just some lowly kidnappers.”

Her fingers curled around the bag, numb and not quite feeling like her own.

“I know,” she said quietly. A part of her had understood from the moment that she’d opened her eyes that she was only ever destined to hurt. Whether it was herself or others, Peko couldn’t say.

The man with a face like that of the two children playing in the snow laughed at an unnatural cackle that cut right through her heart, and she felt it freeze over just like the landscape in front of her.

“Good. I know you do.”

Fuyuhiko’s innocent laughter played in the background as Natsumi pelted him with another snowball, hitting him right in the center of his forehead.

Not for the first time in her life but possibly for the last, Peko felt afraid.


	5. "I Have Something New."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***Insert your usual content warning for child maltreatment and violence!!!

“Leave me the hell _alone!_ ”

Maki stood a far distance away in her slippers as she watched a plain white mug shatter against the cement walls of the warehouse, standing still and unflinching at the sound of the impact.

A boy about 12 or 13 stood with an open switchblade in his left hand, eyes narrowed. Another girl about the same age, shorter than him but not by much, stood across the kitchen area from him, chest heaving and face contorted into a rage that Maki had realized was quite common.

“I know you took it. Where the hell did you put it?” The boy spat, his fingers around the handle of the blade twitching.

The girl’s mouth twisted into a snarl. “I don’t have your stupid video game thing, I already told you! Buzz off!” Her last words were said with a heavy emphasis. Maki could tell that she wanted to use something else, but was still afraid to.

The sound of a door near the back of the warehouse opening caught Maki’s attention. She turned her head away from the scene in front of her to see the blonde girl she always somehow found herself encountering making her way over. The girl walked forward, a frown on her face.

“What’s going on here?”

The boy’s eyes dripped with hate. “She took my console,” he said tightly between clenched teeth.

“I already fucking told you I didn’t!” Despite the obvious malice in her voice, it shook slightly at her own use of a swear word.

The blonde sighed. “No, she didn’t. You left it outside again, Yuuma.” She pulled a small handheld gaming console from her pocket. “You’re always leaving your stuff around.”

The boy, presumably named Yuuma, quickly dropped his animosity when he realized. He stared at the girl that still seethed with anger in front of him, and slowly folded his switchblade, placing it neatly in his pocket.

“Sorry,” he mumbled to the girl before turning to the taller blonde, taking the console from her outstretched hand.

“You really should be more careful. Don’t lose stuff like that.”

“Whatever,” the boy grumbled under his breath before heading into one of the individual bedroom units, his eyes glued onto the console, the whole ordeal forgotten to him.

The smaller black haired girl now relaxed her position. “Thanks, Ena.” The blonde girl turned to face her, a slight frown still etched on her face.

“You still didn’t have to throw all that stuff. Now you have to clean it up.”

The younger girl went back to scowling before storming off to the storage closet where the brooms were kept, the pieces of broken plates and a mug waiting expectantly on the floor.

_‘Ena…’_ Maki repeated the name in her head. She hadn’t realized up until now that she had never even known this older girl’s name. Maki had never really bothered to learn anybody’s names in this place; she never thought anyone was important enough to get attached to.

“And you,” Ena turned her attention to Maki.

“Hm?”

“You’re up way too late. You should go back to bed.”

Maki looked out one of the small windows that were situated high up on the walls. It was definitely late night time now; she had been having a dream about something she couldn’t remember (but she remembered that it was good) before she was awoken by the crashing of porcelain against cement. She’d left her room to see what was going on and was met with the two older child assassins from earlier fighting each other in the kitchen area.

“Oh. Yeah.” Maki stifled a yawn, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Sorry you had to see all of that.” Ena crossed her arms and shook her head. “People get real shitty around here sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Maki repeated, not really knowing what to say. She’d witnessed fights between other assassins before; this wasn’t exactly a family environment, just a living space where they were all kept. But with so many destructive personalities in one place, fights over petty things were bound to break out.

“Anyway, I’m going back to bed. You should too.”

With that, Ena turned around, gave Maki a half wave, and entered her room once again, closing the door quietly.

Maki lingered for a moment, listening to the click of metal before heading to her own door, pulling it open and sitting herself down on her cot.

Annoyance made its way into her chest, but she quickly shook it off. Little dramatic events like this shouldn’t bother her anyway.

It didn’t matter that Maki had been woken up from a dream that was providing her temporary comfort from this world that she hated. It didn’t matter that she also hated going to sleep every night because she knew that each time she woke up was a new day closer to her next class. And it certainly didn’t matter that it was her birthday next week. 

She stared at her pillow, dread sinking into her bones. 

Earlier that week, Maki had laid her head down on her pillow and slid her hand underneath it so she could embrace it in a sad half hug, when her skin caught on something sharp. Retracting her hand quickly, Maki saw a single trail of blood running down the side of her index finger.

Upon raising her pillow, she was met with the sight of a large tactical knife the size of one she had used to perform her first kill, except this one was far sharper and had serrated edges to ensure greater damage to the receiving end.

A small yellow note accompanied it with the words “for next week” on it.

Maki did not have to ask who had left it.

Now, the little girl fell backwards, her head hitting the soft pillow that felt like bricks underneath her head. She tried not to think of the blade that sat in the drawer of her bedside table, and especially tried not to think of the trails of blood that would be drawn from other kids’ skin from that very knife next week. Her eyes focused on the cement ceiling, too full of apprehension to shut close.

_‘I don’t want to.’_ The thought didn’t cross her mind often, as Maki knew exactly why she was here: she chose this. She decided to take Yua’s place to be here. She was here on her own volition.

But Maki was also a child.

She lay on her back, staring at the empty ceiling above her. Though her eyes were completely dry, her chest felt tight and her throat felt as if it had a barbed wire wrapped around it. The ceiling began to swirl in different shades of grey, and suddenly Maki saw her own self in the dojo, fighting against her opponents. She watched, as if the ceiling was a TV screen, as her own self lunged forward, serrated knife in hand, and created a long laceration along one boy’s arm.

_‘I don’t want to.’_ She watched herself duck underneath a katana and knock it out of another boy’s hands before springing forward and making a slash across his chest.

_‘I don’t want to!’_ Maki watched in horror as she sliced her giant knife through the air, severing a shinai in half and carving into a girl’s face, blood of a familiar shade staining her arms.

Maki rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, the barbed wire beginning to pull tighter around her throat. She applied pressure to her eyelids, electing that it was better to see stars than to watch herself become the killer that she was here to be in the first place. After colors swirled in her field of vision in place of terrifying fantasies of herself, Maki closed her eyes, deciding that escaping this current world sounded alright for a little while.

The image of Peko’s face wrapped in bandages haunted the back of her mind before she fell back into sleep, dreaming that she was falling down a dark void, her body never seeming to hit the ground.

—

The snow was beginning to thaw now, turning the courtyard into a mess of slippery grey slush. Peko had almost slipped and fallen on a rather wet patch on her way to the small dojo that was located in the corner of the sprawling Kuzuryu estate. Though she didn’t get many moments to herself, Peko was now alone in the dojo, save for a wooden training dummy that she was mercilessly going at with her shinai. 

The katana still lay unused in her room.

She still had yet to bring it to class, the sharpness of the blade still daunting and terrifying to her. Peko had taken it out of the bag, once, and ran her index finger along the edge of the blade, only to be met with a speck of blood oozing out of a small cut when she brought it back up to her eyes.

Fuyuhiko was off on a playdate with another boy from his school today, and had specifically asked that she not come along, telling her that she would “scare him.” Peko had complied, opting to use her rare time to herself to better her fighting skills.

(Not like she had anything else to do.)

Peko swung her shinai, wood colliding on wood with a menacing crack, her grip firm on the handle as the training dummy lurched backward from the force that she hit it with. She felt her bamboo sword quiver with the power she had exerted, and as spots of colors danced in front of her line of sight, Peko realized that she hadn’t exhaled this entire time.

The little girl let out a long huff of air, feeling her lungs deflate like a balloon. She dropped her sore arms to the side as she felt the blood pump through her body once again. Though she began to breathe again, she still felt anything but relaxed. 

“You have gotten good.”

A man’s voice that instilled fear in her without fail came from the doorway of the dojo. Peko, immersed in her solo training session, had not even heard him open the door.

Now, she straightened her back then and bent at the waist for a moment in a polite bow, ignoring the pricking feeling against the back of her neck. 

“Thank you, sir.”

He entered the dojo, slipping his shoes off before doing so, and walked at an easy pace around the length of the room. His hand traced the walls as he did so, feeling the smooth surface of the wood panels.

“Peko you...have been attending this special school for some time.”

Peko kept her eyes forward, locked on the dead trees outside the door that he had left open. Goosebumps began forming on her skin, and she wasn’t entirely sure it was because of the air outside. 

“Yes, sir.”

He reached the corner of the dojo, feeling the place where the wall dipped and sprung up again. He hummed, deep and mellow, though it was anything but calming.

“I am glad that you’ve grasped your role much more lately.” He paused, feeling an oddly rough spot in the grain of the wood.

“Your abilities to perform as a tool for this family have been growing much more adequate. You’ve proven that you are not such a waste.”

A chill ran up her spine. She was not sure why.

The man continued onto the back wall, his hand still grazing its surface. 

“I must say, Peko, for a child you are…” He glanced at the shinai nestled comfortably in her hand, then turned his eyes to the training dummy that she had been practicing on earlier. It bore deep crevices and dents where she’d hit it particularly forcefully, even going so far as to splinter and break at some parts. A few bits of wood lay pitifully on the floor, chipped off from the one sided fight between the dummy. 

Though she was not looking at him, the delivery of his words hinted to her that his mouth was curled up into a sneer.

“Hideously brutal.”

She tightened her grip on her shinai. Her hands felt like ice. The warm blood of two strangers still felt like yesterday. 

“Thank you, sir.”

He laughed, cold and cruel as always.

“Now, Peko, I understand that you are strong. _Very_ strong for a child. My, you’ve already taken human lives with those little hands of yours.” Another laugh, one thick with callousness. She kept her eyes forward and stayed silent, just as she always did. 

“So I have to wonder,” he said as he reached the next corner of the room, stroking the wood panels, making sure these ones didn’t have any impurities born into them.

“Is there someone at that school who’s giving you trouble?”

Peko’s entire body felt like it could shatter at the lightest touch.

“Sir? I don’t think I understand…”

He drew his hand back from the wood, forming a loose fist and stroking the surfaces of his curled fingers with his thumbs. She knew the back of his hand by memory now. 

“What I mean, Peko, is...is there an opponent that is…” He pondered his words, and another sneer painted its way onto his face.

“Is there someone there that's worthy of your fight?”

A pair of pigtails and the sound of a bento box snapping open flickered in her ears for a moment. Her breath caught in her throat for a second before she heard him begin to walk again, his hand trailing along the wall once more.

“You mean...is there anyone there...that’s as good as me?”

The man scoffed. “There are plenty of people better than you.” Her heart sank to her knees. “But yes, essentially, that is what I’m asking.”

Peko always listened. Peko always obeyed. And Peko always gave answers, even if she didn’t want to.

“Yes, there is one.” As soon as the sentence left her mouth, she immediately regretted it. “But there’s only one. Everyone else I can beat,” she quickly added for damage control. Last week she’d felt his palm collide with her face, reminding her in raised voices that she didn’t have any reason to be alive but this. 

The man slowed his pace along the wall, his eyes towards the floor.

“One is all it takes.”

His voice was dark and terrifying, freezing Peko to her core. It felt as though her insides had been dunked into ice water and left there overnight. Truthfully, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever feel warm again. 

“I-I know, I’m doing really good though! She’s good, b-but I can be better!” Peko tried to add a hint of confidence to her voice, hoping her trepidation wasn’t showing through.

The man hummed again, buzzing like chainsaws. He continued along the length of the wall, the sound of his skin dragging along the wood filling the whole building despite the door that still stayed open. Peko shuddered, dreading the unpredictability of his response.

“I noticed you haven’t been taking your katana with you.”

Her organs showed no signs of thawing.

“I—” Peko fumbled for a response, unsure how to lie to him. She had been bringing her shinai to class every week, leaving her katana in her closet, terrified to wield it against those her age. Another boy in her class used a katana as his primary weapon; she had taken him on and came out victorious, but she remembered the way her heart stopped each time the blade came close to nicking her skin.

She still remembered how hot their blood was when she cut their kidnappers at the throat, how her clothes clung to her skin soaked in it. Had they been terrified too?

_‘It doesn’t matter. I had to do it,’_ she thought to herself bitterly. 

The man rapped on a wood panel once, yanking Peko’s attention back to him. 

“I want you to take it with you next week. And I want you to take that girl down.”

Mr. Kuzuryu’s voice held no mercy, just like it’s owner.

In spite of the way her stomach churned and her veins felt like ice, Peko kept her eyes forward and nodded, the joints in her neck feeling like rust.

“I understand.”

In her peripheral vision, she saw him lift his head and sneer again.

“I know you do. You _always_ do.” Another laugh. Cruel, just like the owner. She felt his knuckles from a week ago collide with her jaw. 

“Remember...she could be a threat to him.”

Peko’s eyes widened. The thought of Maki holding Fuyuhiko at knifepoint flashed in the back of her mind.

_‘No...she wouldn’t.’_

“And your purpose is to eliminate all threats.”

He made his way to the doorway, his hand still crawling along the wall. She held her breath. She remembered the feeling of that hand all too well. 

“But you know that already, don’t you…” he paused, relishing the next word. Just days ago she felt his palm crash into her cheek.

“...Tool?”

Peko kept her eyes forward and nodded curtly.

“Yes, I know. I understand.”

He made his way towards her in slow, drawn out steps. She stood firm, refusing to shake.

“Peko.” 

He enunciated both syllables clearly and individually, spitting them out of his mouth like cherry pits. She looked up, fiery red eyes meeting those cold and black. The man much larger than her took her tiny chin in between his thumb and index finger, and she felt his deathly cold fingers creating freezer burn against her skin. He stared at her, turning her head with his two fingers, an unkind smile drunk with power stretching across his face. Peko simply stood compliant and felt her neck twist along with the slightest movement of his hand; the little silver haired girl was but a puppet in his grasp, and he was savoring every sick moment of control.

“You’d better find out how to defeat her,” he said casually as he tilted her head upwards to look him in the eyes once again. He leaned forward, uncomfortably close, and Peko hoped that he couldn’t hear her heart beating through her chest like a drum.

“Who knows, one day you might even have to kill her.”

He released his hand from Peko’s chin and straightened himself up, turning towards the open doorway of the dojo, wiping the hand that had just been holding her on the side of his pants.

“By the way, Peko,”

The man stopped in the doorway as he slipped his shoes back on, facing the outside as the chilly air pelted his face. Peko stared at his back, her chin feeling colder than the winter air that was making its way into the room.

“You don’t have any friends in this world. You never did, and you never will.”

He stepped down the stairs and left her standing there, shinai still locked in her grip. As soon as he was out of sight, she reached up to touch her chin to check that it was still attached and had not frozen off.

_‘I know,’_ she thought numbly for the fifth time today.

—

The next week, Peko came to class with a much heavier sword bag slung over her shoulder, shutting the door to the black SUV with unusually shaky hands.

Entering the dojo, she took her usual seat at the back corner next to Maki, who immediately noticed the tension in Peko’s face; her eyes were wide open, glazed over with something more than her usual neutral expression. She walked and moved stiffly, as though she had rods in her body, and as soon as she took her place next to Maki, the pigtailed girl turned to her, automatically sensing her change in energy.

“What’s wrong with you today?”

Peko kept her eyes forward, watching their sensei arrange some beat up training dummies in the back of the dojo. Her heart still had not thawed, still had not beat for a week straight.

“I have a katana.”

Maki frowned, still not entirely understanding.

“A real one. Here, with me.”

Maki mashed her lips together, her eyes flickering with something bright red and indecipherable.

“I have something new too.”

She reached into her little tote bag, pulling out the giant serrated knife that was resting next to her child sized bento box.

Peko turned her head to look at the knife, scanning the edge of the knife, taking in each deadly ridge. It was about 9 inches long and far larger than anything she had seen Maki use before, but she had no doubt that she could wield it with power. Peko was dangerous, but Maki was equally as fierce, neither one ever truly being able to outwit the other.

“Oh,” Peko said monotonously, her eyes still locked onto the blade, wondering how it would feel to get her skin torn open by it.

More kids started shuffling into the dojo. She heard clinks of metal as some of her classmates began toying with their respective weapons.

Maki placed the knife on her lap, her hand steady and unshaking. She looked at her reflection in the gleaming gleaming silver blade and couldn’t help but think about how it was the exact same shade of Peko’s hair.

They sat in a knowing silence as Peko felt the weight of the katana on her back grow heavier and heavier with each minute that passed, dread seeping deeper into the lining of her stomach as her sensei began announcing sparring partners.

They don’t end up fighting each other this week.

Both are secretly relieved, exhaling a breath of ease only to choke on the realization that wielding their weapons against each other was inevitable.

But for this week, both girls are safe from the other. For now.

As Peko sliced through the air, metal becoming a silver blur, she couldn’t help but feel a guilty peace of mind as the yelp of pain from the girl in front of the receiving end of her blow was not from Maki.

.

“Happy birthday!”

The words fell happily from her mouth as they sat underneath the overhang of the dojo later that day. 

Maki looked up from her bento box that she had been steadily taking food from, breaking her stare from the plain onigiri she had been given that day.

“Huh?”

Peko let out a tiny breath of laughter as she pressed her thumb to her forearm where she had been cut by a girl who used a butterfly sword as her main weapon. It had been a close fight; Peko had won by a small margin, just as she always did, but she’d come out of it with a nasty incision that ran almost the entire length of her forearm. It had been bandaged up, of course, but Peko knew that with the way it was steadily, albeit slowly bleeding, she would have to change it in a few hours.

“I said, happy birthday Maki! It is your birthday today isn’t it?”

Maki picked up a piece of onigiri, feeling the cold grains of rice against her fingertips, and handed it to Peko, who took it with her good arm.

“Yeah...it is. How did you know?”

Peko tilted her head to the side. “You told me, didn’t you?”

Maki picked up another piece of onigiri and bit into it herself. “Yeah, a while ago. How did you remember?”

Peko followed, taking a bite of her own piece. “I guess I just did,” she answered truthfully.

Maki found a small smile growing on her face. “Thank you,” she said softly after swallowing her food.

“I didn’t think anyone would remember.”

That morning, she had passed by the caretaker woman in the warehouse, taking her bento box from the kitchen countertop. The woman had said nothing to her, just scoffed as Maki gave a half hearted “thank you.” She had seen a couple other kids in the warehouse, and Ena had even given her a small wave, but nobody had said anything to her. They never did.

“Well, I did,” Peko said casually as she took another dainty bite of her rice ball.

The brown haired girl felt her cheeks grow warm. “Thanks,” she mumbled happily as she took another bite.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a big present for you or anything,” Peko said glumly as she finished her piece, staring at her empty hands. “If I had a lot of money, I would buy you a big house on a lake like you wanted.”

Maki found herself blushing a deep shade of red, her face feeling like fire. “No, it’s okay, you really didn’t have to. Besides,” she twisted her right pigtail with both hands. “I don’t really need anything anyway. And it’s nice to just…” Maki chewed the inside of her cheek. Conveying what she felt was difficult, it always had been. 

“It feels nice to just sit here with you sometimes,” she decided on. She wasn’t entirely sure if that captured everything that she felt, but it was good enough.

Peko smiled, reaching up and fiddling with the ends of her braid. “I’m glad. I enjoy sitting with you too.” Peko’s words were sometimes oddly formal, but Maki found that she didn’t have any trouble understanding them. 

Suddenly Peko’s eyes lit up, something that only Maki seemed to be familiar with.

“Wait, I had an idea,” the silver haired girl said, turning to the side where her sword bag lay. Sewn into it was a small compartment, so tiny and subtle that no one would be able to notice it.

Maki craned her neck as Peko dug through her sword back, confusion etched into her face. “What are you doing?” she asked as she finished her own onigiri. Peko twisted around to meet Maki’s eyes, excitement spilling from her childish features.

“Can I braid your hair?”

Maki was slightly startled at the request, but she was not against it; Peko had braided her hair multiple times by now, and each time was more relaxing than the last. Unfortunately, whenever she offered to put Peko’s hair into pigtails, the other girl would sadly reject her offer, never being able to make eye contact with Maki when she did. This didn’t bother Maki though; she knew that Peko had a good reason for everything, and trusted that she had a reason to say no to her too.

“Sure,” Maki smiled as she turned around, exposing the back of her head to Peko. She felt the familiar sensation of her red scrunchies being pulled out, closed her eyes as she felt small hands run through her hair. Maki leaned into Peko’s comforting touch, saving the feeling of her fingers brushing delicately through her locks.

Despite the gash on Peko’s arm, all of the pain seemed to momentarily melt away the moment she touched the other girl’s silky brown hair.

Soon enough, the recognizable sensation of her hair being parted down the middle overtook Maki’s scalp. This time, however, Peko took one of Maki’s scrunchies and created a high pigtail on one side of her head. Minor confusion overtook Maki for a second but was soon replaced with trust. 

_‘Peko knows what she’s doing,’_ Maki thought to herself, not giving the other girl’s actions a second thought. _‘She can do whatever, I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.’_

Peko repeated the action on the other side of Maki’s head so that she now had two high pigtails sitting on her head. Going back to the first one she made, Peko created three equal sections of hair, intertwining them together to make a neat, proper braid that any child would have envied. Taking the object she’d obtained from her sword bag earlier, she secured the ends of it so that the braid stayed put.

She repeated the action on the other pigtail, and soon enough two perfectly symmetrical braids were hanging from both sides of Maki’s head.

“How did you get them to stay?” The question ran through Maki’s mind as soon as the other girl had used the two scrunchies to create high pigtails in Maki’s brown hair. Peko gave one of her small laughs, quiet and endearing.

“Look.”

Peko gently threw one of the braids over Maki’s shoulder and the brown haired girl caught it, the plait resting comfortably in her hand.

“Aw, Peko…”

A glowing feeling enveloped Maki’s body as she realized that one of Peko’s own hair ribbons was tied to the end of her hair. It was a simple white ribbon and had clearly been worn multiple times before, mildly frayed at the ends, but the plain gesture had made Maki feel like she’d swallowed fireflies.

“Do you like it?”

Peko’s voice snapped her out of her trance, and Maki quickly twirled around, her red eyes glittering.

“I love it.”

Peko’s face lit up, her rare smile making an appearance and her face flushing baby pink.

“Really?”

“Yes! But...what about you? Aren’t these yours?”

Peko shrugged. “Those are an extra pair. I just have to be really careful not to lose these ones, now.” Peko lifted her head up proudly. “And I won’t, so don’t worry.”

A wobbly smile crawled across Maki’s features.

“Thank you, Peko,” she said again, her voice dripping with sincerity.

“You’re welcome,” Peko responded happily, her smile growing larger.

The both of them paused, locking eyes, staring at each other for a few seconds that somehow seemed to last a lifetime.

Maki was unsure what to do with herself or with the luminous feeling that was rapidly spreading inside her chest, her heart feeling all sorts of warm. Sunlight shined through the gaps in her bones, and every part of her wanted to share this new heat. Her arms felt like they wanted to do something, but what? 

Meanwhile, Peko appeared similarly flushed; stars appeared in her insides, glimmering in her stomach, in her lungs, in her chest. A galaxy grew inside her, and she wanted to share this delighted feeling with Maki, but was not sure how. Her arms ached for something to hold, but what?

The two stared at one another, uncertain. 

“It’s time to come back inside now. Training will resume in 2 minutes, please make your way back over to the dojo.”

Their sensei’s voice boomed over their heads, and the kids around them began standing up, packing their things and heading back inside.

“I guess we should go inside,” Maki said suddenly, breaking her gaze from eyes red like her own. She felt the fireflies in her flicker out, and a part of her reached out in vain to try to hold onto the light. 

“Yeah,” Peko said decisively, ignoring the pang in her chest as the stars faded away.

The two children headed back inside, each of them still wondering what the feeling was that they had just encountered.

The both of them secretly wondered if the other had experienced the same thing.

—

It wasn’t like Maki had never been hugged before, she was just far more used to other forms of physical contact than hugs.

She leaned against the kitchen countertop, listening to the door to the warehouse slam shut as the men in black suits saw themselves out. They seemed to be coming by more regularly now, something she was not exactly ecstatic about. The young girl rubbed the spot on her cheek where one of them had smacked her rather harshly; it wasn’t for any real reason, he just wanted to see if she could take it.

Now, Maki snarled at the closed door, narrowing her eyes and pretending that she was shooting dozens of knives at the men that had just walked out of it. Stomping over to the freezer, she grabbed a plastic sandwich bag from one of the drawers and began angrily stuffing it with ice cubes.

_‘This sucks,’_ she thought angrily to herself as her hand froze when it touched an ice cube. _‘This really, really sucks.’_

“Hey.”

Maki turned away from the freezer, abandoning her pity party to be met with that blonde girl again. She seemed to be everywhere now.

“You okay?” the girl she now knew was named Ena asked.

Maki just rolled her eyes and fastened the plastic bag, slamming the freezer door shut.

“Whatever,” Maki grumbled as she pressed the ice to her cheek. _‘I hope this doesn’t leave a mark like last time,’_ she thought bitterly.

Ena frowned, her face a mixture of pity and something else Maki still couldn’t recognize.

“I know it...sucks a lot. But you’re good for gritting your teeth and bearing with it.”

Maki said nothing, anger still stewing in her bloodstream.

Ena sighed. “Fighting back is...really bad. And can hurt you a lot.”

Maki scrunched up her nose, sniffling a little bit as she did so.

“I’m always getting hurt,” Maki spat, annoyed. 

Ena picked at her nail beds, not sure how to respond to the angry child in front of her.

“I know, I...I’m s—”

Maki tore across the room, making a beeline to her room, completely ignoring whatever it was that Ena had to say. Whatever it was, she wasn’t in the mood to hear it today.

She slammed her door forcefully, drowning out Ena’s last words, and listened to the door click shut.

Sighing heatedly, Maki sat down on her cot, the ice still pressed to her cheek. She caught a glimpse of the braid that trailed down her front, and with her free hand, reached up to rub the fabric of the ribbon in between her fingers.

She stared at the ribbons for a long time, contemplating her next actions before deciding what to do.

Abandoning her bag of ice on her bedside table, Maki dropped down to the ground and pulled her cardboard shoebox out from underneath her cot, blowing off the thin coat of dust. Removing the lid, her eyes scanned over the few contents that the box held, then broke her stare with the object inside as she brought her hands up to stroke the ribbons hanging from the ends of her braids.

Carefully, Maki untied the ribbon, feeling her braid go limp. She felt the fabric in between her fingertips; it was a satin material, cool against her skin. Maki smiled softly as she wrapped it around her finger, forming a neat coil, and then placed it inside the box right next to Yua’s picture.

She did the same with the other one, putting them neatly next to each other, and took one last look at the two hair ribbons nestled inside her box full of her few precious things, hoping that this would be enough to keep them safe.

_‘I’ll be really careful not to lose these,’_ she thought to herself, repeating Peko’s own words.

She gave them one last look before shutting the box close, pushing it back under the bed.

_‘I’ll make sure nobody ever takes them away from me.’_

—

“What happened to your arm!?”

Fuyuhiko stood in the open doorway of Peko’s room, watching in horror as she had just unwrapped her forearm from the several bandages that had her patched up.

Peko froze.

“What are you doing here?” she asked slowly. Fuyuhiko had been out with a group of his friends today; he had left right before Peko had left for her training. He wasn’t supposed to be home for another hour or two, yet here he was, standing in the doorway to Peko’s small room.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“What are you doing here?” she repeated, a bit more forcefully than she intended to. Her voice got icier every day, and every day she slipped further and further away from him.

Fuyuhiko frowned, obviously unsatisfied. “I just wanted to come home early, that’s all.” Peko could tell that he was lying through his teeth. He was always so easy to read.

That’s what made him so dangerously vulnerable. That’s why she needed to protect him at all costs.

“Okay,” Peko said blandly, reaching over to the first aid kit that lay open next to her to grab a new roll of bandages and some antibiotics.

Fuyuhiko rushed over, the panic apparent in his face. “Peko what the heck happened to you!? Wh—” 

“I’m fine,” she interrupted coolly as she grabbed a q-tip from the kit and squeezed some antibiotic ointment onto it. “It’s just a scratch, I’ll be fine young master.” She dapped the q-tip along the length of her wound, feeling a little bit soothed already.

Fuyuhiko lowered himself down and sat down right in front of her, still watching her with alarm on his face. “Peko how did you get that?” he asked, his voice clearly distressed.

Although she had experienced a warm feeling in her chest just hours ago, Peko shut herself down just like she’d learned how to in this household. Metal walls came clanging down, and not a single slit of sunlight found its way to the place where she kept her heart locked up.

“I apologize, young master, but that is none of your concern.” Peko reached over to put down the q-tip and exchange it for a fresh roll of bandages. “Besides, everything is so I can protect you better.”

Peko had conformed to her role as a tool beautifully, it was true. She knew how to fight, she knew how to protect, and even at her young age, she knew how to kill. The little girl was the very image of the inhuman thing that the Kuzuryu family had strived to mold her into: cold and unfeeling and machinelike.

But Peko was also a child.

She hated being hit. She hated being smacked around by people bigger than her. And the only times that didn’t happen were when she was doing what they wanted.

“I don’t _want_ you to protect me!” Fuyuhiko yelled angrily. He reached out to grab Peko’s arm, but she quickly pulled away, fear flashing in her eyes for a split second. She froze, her arm pulled back from him, her nerves frozen over.

“I _have_ to.”

Her voice was even and stern, cold and collected. 

For a moment, she reminded him of his father.

“No, you don't!” Fuyuhiko cried, tears beginning to brim in the corners of his eyes. “If you keep getting hurt then I don’t want you to do that!”

“You don’t get it,” she snapped. Immediately she braced for a spout of anger for talking back, preparing to get vicious words hurled her direction, maybe something more.

“Well I can try!” he cried again, desperation creeping back into his voice.

“No, you can’t.” The metal walls around her stayed planted in place.

“What?” 

“You’ll get it, one day.”

Fuyuhiko stopped, turmoil running across his youthful features.

“What do you mean by that, Peko?”

She blinked a few times, scanning his turbulent face with her totally expressionless one. Hurricanes thrashed behind his gold-green irises. Hers held nothing at all.

“You just—you will.” Peko took a deep breath in, remembering what his father had always made her say, over and over again. She felt a larger hand make contact with her jaw. Memories of blood stained the front of her clothes, heat still on her cheeks from all the times a hand had hit her face. She remembered the way they wanted to hurt him, what could have happened if she hadn’t been there. The metal walls around her only grew thicker. 

Her heart fell deeper into the dark void where she kept everything hidden, everything that she never wanted him to see.

“I’m doing this for you.”

  
  
  



	6. "I'm Sorry.:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for graphic violence and maltreatment of children! (but if you've read this far you probably already know that)

“I don’t want to!”

A small child’s scream was heard all over the warehouse, echoing within every wall, present in every room. Maki watched through a crack in her doorway as a man wearing a crisp black suit and dark sunglasses grabbed the back of a little blonde boy’s collar, his grip rough and forceful.

“You don’t have a choice,” he growled gruffly. The child continued to cry, tears rolling down his face.

“I don’t wanna go with you! I won’t!” 

The boy screamed, tracks of his tears growing thicker on his cheeks. He wailed in pain as the man delivered a curt smack across his face, collapsing to the floor out of the man's grip. Maki watched the man throw a large knife onto the ground in front of him, the curved metal blade clattering loudly on the cement floor.

“Pick it up!” he yelled to the sobbing boy on the ground, who did nothing but continue to cry. The man leaned in, mouth drawn downwards in a scowl.

“Pick it up or I’ll use it on you.”

The boy's eyes widened, pupils dilating in fear, and blinked the oncoming tears out of his eyes. He hiccuped, another wet sob escaping him, and picked up the large knife with his small, trembling hands, his wide watery eyes reflected in the unused metal.

He couldn’t have been older than 5.

“Good,” the man said, his mouth twisting into a sneer. “Now come with me before I keep that promise.”

The boy gasped for air again, his whole body shaking, still not standing up from the ground. He drew another big breath of air in, then another, almost as though he was preparing to go underwater. With the amount of tears still rushing down his face, he might as well have.

Or perhaps he was choking on each breath, none of them making their way to his lungs. Maybe each breath was just another reminder of what was going to happen should he stay alive.

The man in the black suit let out an aggravated sigh.

“Fine, if that’s how you brats wanna be…”

Maki tried not to flinch as she watched him seize the boy by the collar again, dragging the little blonde kicking and screaming to the door. With one final use of profanity, the man opened and slammed the door shut with the little boy in tow, his high pitched screams still shaking Maki’s bones.

She stared at the closed door for what felt like hours, the little boy’s shrieks of resistance still reverberating in her ears.

_ ‘I can’t believe…’  _

He couldn’t have been older than 5.

_ ‘...they just...took him.’ _

It was customary for them to start the kids young. The boy was presumably going on his first mission at this point. 

_ ‘But he was only...he was so…’  _

Truthfully, she wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Or even how to feel. She’d gone on her first mission when she was 6. It wasn’t all that unusual for young children to be beginning their first kills at a young age.

But Maki had never seen someone get dragged away like that before. She’d never seen someone resist like that before, never seen someone say “no” so obviously and angrily.

On the day of her first mission when she slit a man’s neck in the back of an alley, Maki had been afraid. She would never admit it, but she had been afraid when a man in a black suit came up to her and handed her a knife as large as her head and told her that she would be “going out tonight,” delivering his sentence with a sinister smile. She would never admit that she had been afraid when the older boy that was meant to lead and teach her chased their target down the alleyway, laughing maniacally and without any hint of human sympathy. She would never admit that she had been afraid, staring into a stranger's eyes, his eyes bloodshot and filled with dread as she walked up to him, knife in her tiny hands.

She stared at the closed doorway, the warehouse still as a windless night.

Outside the small windows situation near the highest point of the walls, she could see that it was still relatively light out. The sun would be setting now, based on the golden glow that washed the panes of the windows.

Not hearing any sign of human activity, Maki slowly opened and shut her door, making her way to the back door of the warehouse. She knew nobody would be out to find her.

Opening the door, Maki was caught up in an unexpectedly warm breeze. The winter was beginning to melt away now, and spring was laughing her rosy breath through the air. Maki closed the back door quietly and closed her eyes, inhaling the smell of sunlight.

Nobody would be looking for her. Right now, she had some time to herself.

Deciding to go for a small walk, Maki opened her eyes and made her way to the side of the warehouse, peeking around the corner to make sure that no men in black suits were keeping watch or stuffing kids into black cars. Exhaling a small sigh of relief, Maki walked to the front, where no men were to be seen. 

Her arms held stiffly at her sides, Maki walked a bit down the alleyway the warehouse was situated in, then down the path that she took to the school every week. A pleasant wind picked up a few stray hairs that floated around the frame of her face, drifting aimlessly. The trees were blooming with shades of pink, painting the world like a watercolor picture.

A couple cherry blossom petals flew by her face. She inhaled the floral scent that wafted through the air, being careful not to step on the small piles of pink that had accumulated along the edges of the road. Maki walked leisurely down the sidewalk, allowing the wind to guide her. It was a pleasant evening, and a small handful of adults were out taking leisurely strolls as well. She tried to ignore the odd looks thrown towards her, a young child with no guardian yet no sense of fear in her face.

As she walked, she came across a park that she passed by every week. Usually kids were piled on top of the jungle gyms and clamboring noisily across the monkey bars, but today it was oddly empty. Her gaze fixated on the swings that she had never even gone near, never even dreamed of touching, and her fingers began to clench and unclench into fists.

Looking both ways before crossing the street, Maki made sure all was clear before swiftly making her way to the other side of the road, eyes locked on the empty swing set. Her feet sunk into the sand as she found herself on the playground, and the odd, unknown sensation of sand beneath her feet nearly caused her to slip and fall.

When she reached the simple swing set of two u-shaped seats suspended by two chains on either side, Maki blinked, analyzing it. As soon as she got there, regret began seeping into her stomach, because she now realized she totally unsure what to do.

Maki had never been on a swing set in her life, much less used one on her own.

Her eyebrows knit together in both discomfort and determination.  _ ‘If other kids can do it, then so can I. Right?’  _ She turned around and plopped herself down on a seat, feeling the plasticky material sink slightly underneath her weight. Her toes just barely skimmed the sand.

There Maki sat, with no one to push her. 

She let out an annoyed huff of air and thought about what she’d seen the other kids do whenever she passed by here; usually they would have a partner behind them to propel them forward, but on rare occasions, Maki had seen older and larger kids start and maintain the swing’s motion on their own.

_ ‘Just like...that,’  _ she thought persistently as she began swinging her legs back and forth. The swing began moving back and forth just barely, but Maki’s heart soared as the small bit of motion pushed her forward.

_ ‘Okay...I think I kind of get it,’  _ Maki thought excitedly to herself as she began gaining a little bit of speed. Whenever her toes lightly touched the sand, she tried to use that little bit of force to push her backwards a little bit more, resulting in a greater push forward.

With a little bit of work, Maki was swinging back and forth a moderate amount. Not enough to gain the height that she’d seen the other kids do whenever she walked by here, but enough to feel the wind whip lightly through the hair that had come loose around her face.

_ ‘This would be a lot easier if I had another person here with me.’ _

Maki’s eyes fixated on a shapeless cloud, feeling the air brush her hair as she pushed herself forward. A larger gust of wind sailed through the playground, bringing with it a small trail of pink petals.

She turned her head as she was propelled backwards, the sight of dozens of cherry trees in bloom along the sides of the playground filling her vision. A couple sat underneath a rather large tree, laughing together in a bed of petals about something that Maki could not hear. The fragrant scent of cherries floated into Maki’s nose, and she was reminded of the aroma of expensive perfumes and shampoos that she would smell at the stores but never buy.

Another breeze shook up Maki’s bangs, and a flurry of pink petals made its way towards her, floating elegantly through the air as if in a dream. She inhaled, sweetness filling her lungs.

The swing came to a slow stop as a cherry blossom settled into her lap, the pink petals feeling like satin against her fingertips.

—

Peko stood outside next to the front entrance of the mansion, her back straight and rigid, eyes forward. She squared her shoulders, trying to stand as tall as a 6 year old could. In just a couple months, she would be 7. Maki’s age.

“Hold on,” Fuyuhiko said to her before pulling open the door to the large house. “Stay here, I’ll be quick.” Then, he’d entered the household without another explanation.

That’s okay. She didn’t need explanations or answers. She just needed to protect him.

_ ‘No matter the cost.’ _ The little girl repeated the words that his father had repeated to her every opportunity he got. 

_ ‘You have to protect no matter the cost. No matter the cost. Even if it’s your own—’ _

“Peko!”

The door swung open and Fuyuhiko’s cheery voice snapped her out of her repetition. She blinked the startled look out of her eyes and fell back into place, back into her comfortably statuesque self. Peko gave a slight bow.

“Hello, young master. Did you attend to whatever it is you needed to do?”

Fuyuhiko rolled his eyes. “Why do you always talk like that?” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

Peko blinked again, confused. “Like what?”

He let out an annoyed sigh. “Like an adult. You talk like dad.”

Her eyes turned downwards towards the floor. She wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I apologize. This is just...how I talk, I guess.”

Fuyuhiko scowled. “Well you didn’t always talk like that.”

Peko said nothing.

He uncrossed his arms, letting out another sigh, one that was not weighed down with irritation. 

“Well anyway, I asked dad if we could go to the park and he said yes as long as you come with me, so that’s what we’re gonna do today.”

Peko nodded obediently. “Understood. Should I get Natsumi as well?”

Fuyuhiko pursed his lips. “No, she’s probably sleeping. It can just be me and you today,” he said almost triumphantly.

Peko nodded again and adjusted her sword bag. She was still getting used to the extra weight on her shoulder from carrying a real katana now; it was much heavier than her bamboo shinai, but she managed.

The blonde haired boy hopped down the steps from the mansion entrance, a spring in his step. Peko trailed behind, her hands held stiffly at her sides. With every step, the katana on her back bounced, the line of metal occasionally digging into her shoulder blades. But she didn’t mind.

As they reached the bottom step (there weren’t too many), Fuyuhiko began running to the center of the courtyard in front of the mansion, arms spread out on either sides of him.

“Look, Peko! The sakura trees are blooming!”

He spun around in a small pile of pink petals that had accumulated near the grand fountain at the center of the courtyard, kicking up a small rosy cloud.

She raised her small chin and indeed, the courtyard was full of pink blossoms that speckled every tree. Peko wondered how she had not noticed before. Then again, taking in the beauty of her surroundings was not exactly her main priority.

Fuyuhiko let out a happy laugh as a gust of wind carried a small pink cloud above his head, hopping up to try to grab a petal or two in his tiny palms. Watching him in his excited state, Peko relished the boyish smile on his face. It seemed she saw it less and less these days.

After a failed attempt to snatch a petal out of the air, Fuyuhiko grinned good naturedly and ran towards Peko again, his face the same shade of the trees.

“Come on, I bet the park is full of them!”

He grabbed her hand and immediately lightning shot through her arm in the split second where he had curled his fingers around hers.

Fuyuhiko’s hand grasped at where her hand once was, feeling nothing but empty air.

Peko pulled away quickly, gripping the hand he had just touched with her other, holding them close to her chest.

He frowned, a mixture of confusion and sadness etched into his features.

“Peko? What’s wrong?”

Her breath caught in her throat, choked and hesitant.

“I...don’t think you should do that.”

Electricity coursed through her arm, unsure if it was from excitement or from fear. 

She hoped his father hadn’t been watching through the window.

Fuyuhiko’s confusion became even more evident, his head tilting to the side and his brow furrowed even deeper.

“What, hold your hand? Why not?”

She felt an icy gaze from a man’s eyes burn into her back.

“I just...you shouldn’t do that.”

His face fell, eyes flooding with disappointment.

“Why?”

Peko struggled for words, still unsure what to say, uncertain how to explain or describe the importance of not touching her in any way. Touching meant closeness, and closeness meant friendship, and friendship meant yelling and smacks across the face and cold reminders that she did not need reminding of. Friendship was the worst thing in the world to her, the very word full of unnerving connotations that she did not want to think about.

“Just don't, okay?”

Her voice came out a bit harsher than intended, but by the way his face fell even more, he seemed to get the message.

“...Okay. Sorry,” he said, looking down and lacing his fingers together in apology. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” he continued, the guilt evident in his voice.

Her heart ached. It hurt seeing him like this even though it was what she intended.  _ ‘It’s not your fault,’  _ she wanted to say as she pushed down the urge to jump forward and pull him into a hug.  _ ‘It’s not your fault! I’m sorry!’  _

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said instead, her tone totally flat. 

Confusion found its way onto his face again. 

“Why not?”

_ ‘Because tools don’t have feelings. And if I don’t have feelings, then there is nothing to hurt,’  _ she repeated back to herself, over and over again, just as she did every night.

“Because…” Reciting it back to herself was so easy. Reciting it back to his father was even easier. But for some reason, saying it to Fuyuhiko’s face still proved difficult.

“Because,” she took a deep breath in, preparing to say the entire sentence in one go.

“Because tools don’t have feelings. And if I don’t—”

“Geez Peko can you stop with the tool stuff for one day!?”

Fuyuhiko interrupted her, his face growing pinker than the piles of petals that dotted the courtyard.

“I already told you, I don’t need a babysitter.” He scowled as he crossed his arms again, his irritation returning.

Peko gave a small sigh. “I apologize,” she said. Perhaps now would be the time to explain that she was far more than a babysitter, but something told her that he didn’t want to hear it right now.

Fuyuhiko let out another dramatic sigh. “Okay well can we go to the park now or are you gonna keep talking about weird stuff again?”

Peko dipped her head apologetically. “I apologize for holding you back. Let’s head there now,” she said formally. The younger boy rolled his eyes, but his smile still returned as he turned around, heading to the large gate located at the exit of the courtyard.

As they reached the tall gates that guarded the estate, both sides of the large metal bars drifted to either side, sliding open silently as the two children approached them.

Peko stopped, tensing up.

Something was wrong.

_ The gate never opened automatically. _

Fuyuhiko mindlessly exited the gate and began walking down the sidewalk, arms swinging leisurely at his side, humming the name of a song that Peko did not know the name of when a large man charged towards him, appearing out of nowhere.

“Fuyuhiko look out!”

Her voice was not as fast as she was. She barreled towards the man, her hands unsheathing her katana like they had a mind of their own. The little girl made a non-fatal slash across his chest, making sure not to pierce his heart. The front of his shirt stained red as he crumpled to the ground, grunting in pain.

“Peko!? Wh—”

No time to waste. In the corner of her peripheral vision, Peko saw two more men running at her, both clutching butcher knives in their hands. Remembering her training with Maki, she dodged the both of them effortlessly and took down one from behind, delivering a large blow to his back and kicking the back of his knees to get him to the ground where she promptly stabbed the hand that held the knife, immediately stripping him of his weapon as he cried out at the injury.

The second one came at her, knife raised above his head. Being far smaller than him, Peko easily juked him and gifted him a nasty laceration along his side, watching in satisfaction as he dropped the knife and clutched his side that began rapidly bleeding out.

“Peko ru—!”

“Walk away or we kill him.”

Peko whipped her head around, breaking her gaze from the three men lying down in pools of their own blood because of her, her eyes widening as she saw a fourth man holding Fuyuhiko in his grip. The boy’s eyes were wide and terrified as the much bigger man pressed his right hand against his mouth, rendering him speechless. He had wrapped his left arm around Fuyuhiko’s neck, nestling it in the crook of his arm, and in that left hand he held a large butcher’s knife just as the other men had. 

_ ‘No matter the cost.’ _

“No.”

The man’s eyes narrowed.

“What did you just say?”

Peko’s eyes flashed red. Flames. Stop Lights. Explosions.

“I know you’re lying,” she said flatly. “You’re not gonna let him go no matter what.”

The man sneered and let out an ugly laugh. “You’re a lot smarter than you look, girlie.”

She said nothing, only kept her breathing steady and locked her eyes on the man in front of her.

“Aren’t you gonna come get your little boyfriend?” the man cackled, pressing his hand harder against Fuyuhiko’s mouth as he tried to protest, his face growing red.

“Aren’t you gonna come get me first?” Hatred seethed through her teeth. 

The man’s eyebrows raised. “Now that’s a—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Peko charged forward, sword ready. Sooner than he could even react, Peko knocked his hand out of Fuyuhiko’s mouth by delivering a shallow cut across the front of it. The man ripped his hand away from the boy in a yelp of pain. Without thinking, she pushed Fuyuhiko roughly behind her, determined to get him out of the action.

The man scowled as he clutched his injured hand, baring his teeth in anger. “You fuckin—”

Peko did not let him finish as she surged forward and sliced through the air, a flash of metal becoming a blur.

The man’s severed hand fell to the ground with a dull thud.

A scream sent the birds that nested in the sakura trees flying.

_ ‘No matter the cost.’ _

But no, Peko wasn’t done. Remembering how he’d threatened Fuyuhiko, hatred coursed through her veins again, her body growing hot and volatile. In just a few more flashes of silver blurs, the man soon lay dead on the pavement, blood staining the asphalt a beautiful shade of crimson. 

Peko stared down at the corpse, her chest heaving, the color red staining her sleeves and flecks of it on her glasses. The man's lifeless eyes stared up at the sky, seeing nothing. Another cloud of pink petals floated by, observing the scene.

She felt no remorse, no guilt. Nothing.

One by one, the injured men began scrambling up from their places on the ground, and Peko turned around, her eyes glinting red, katana drawn.

“Who sent you.”

The question came out cold and quiet from the 6 year old girl, but the injured men recoiled before her as she pointed her katana towards them.

“It w-was Mr. Kuzuryu, he just said to give you and the boy a scare! We don’t—we didn’t—don’t hurt us anymore! We were just following orders!” 

Peko’s eyes narrowed.

_ ‘Mr. Kuzuryu…?’ _

A tall man with black eyes and a crisp suit emerged from behind the metal gate, clapping slowly, an icy smile plastered on his freckled face.

“Well done, Pekoyama.”

The girl’s eyes widened.

She lowered her katana.

“No worries, there’s an ambulance on the way for you three,” he said casually as he looked towards the cowering men. “As for you…”

He turned his eyes to her.

Peko’s blood turned to ice as the katana in her hand felt filled with lead.

“You did well. Far better than I expected.” He shifted his gaze to the dead man still bleeding out on the sidewalk. 

“You went above and beyond, really.”

It took every ounce of her self control not to drop the katana on the sidewalk.

Peko turned around to where she had shoved Fuyuhiko down, away from the threat she’d been trying to protect him from, away from the man who she thought was about to hurt him. Words abandoned her, and she found no possible easy way to explain what she had just done.

She could say nothing as he looked at her in horror, the flecks of blood on her glasses blurring her view of his mouth open in fear, fresh tears running down his cheeks.

The sound of an ambulance wailed in the distance.

A few cherry petals drifted lazily to the ground, settling in the growing pool of red.

— 

The two girls stood across from each other, neither one willing to show the fear that coursed through the both of them.

“Give it everything you’ve got,” their sensei instructed them gruffly. Peko gripped her katana with trembling hands that she quickly steadied. Maki’s fingers tightened around her large blade, large enough to sever a vein. They stared, neither girl breaking away first.

“Don’t hold back.”

Their sensei stepped away, ready to observe.

A silent plea for forgiveness flickered across both of their irises before charging forward, weapons raised, no hesitation in either of them.

.

An hour later, Peko sat next to Maki in the damp grass, holding a piece of gauze against a large gash across her cheek and staring at a ladybug that was crawling around in front of her. Several deep cuts in her shoulder and side were wrapped heavily in bandages and slowly bleeding out while various shallow cuts were sprinkled all across her body.

Maki was no better. The other silver haired girl had cut open her shirt near the collar and left a nasty incision at the base of her throat, a dangerous defensive wound from when Maki had lurched forward and stabbed her in the side. Maki also sported long lacerations on her own sides and along her arms, as well as a rather short but deep one above her eyebrow that she had just barely had time to pull away from. She held a piece of gauze to this as well, trying to plug the blood that was gradually leaking out.

She sat in the grass with her legs in front of her while Peko sat on her calves, neither of them making eye contact. The bento box lay untouched between the two of them, the silence feeling heavy in the air. After a few moments, Maki awkwardly spoke.

“I’m really sorry about that.”

Peko did not look up from the ladybug, a sad smile on her face.

“It’s okay. I've had worse.”

Maki blinked and looked down, her body filled with stones, sinking to the bottom of the lake. 

“Me too.”

Neither of them said anything for what felt like a long time.

The ambient noises of their classmates milling about floated around them. A clink of metal here, a delighted laugh there. 

Maki shifted her weight and pulled her knees up against her chest with her free hand. Peko said nothing as she watched the ladybug climb up to the tip of a blade of grass, maintaining it’s balance as the blade began to sway underneath it.

“Those guys,” Maki began, breaking the silence. “At the place where I live,”

She stopped. “Live” was a strong word; it was more like “where I’m kept.” But nonetheless she continued.

“They hit me, sometimes.”

The little girl stared at her shoes. She’d never admitted any of this out loud; all of the other kids she lived with went through it to. Malice was normality in her “household,” tough love being anything but love.

Peko kept her eyes fixed on the ladybug, which began to climb onto the underside of the piece of grass it was on. She thought of fists and palms and harsh words shoved into the back of her mouth and how she’d swallowed them, tasting metal.

“He hits me too.”

Maki no longer had to ask who “he” was. She knew. She always knew.

The brown haired girl hugged her knees tighter and lifted the gauze from the spot above her eyebrow. It was covered in a shade of deep red, reminiscent of their eyes.

“It stinks,” she whispered as she tried to ignore the small trail of blood that began making its way down her eyebrow.

Peko splayed her hands flat on her thighs, as deep in thought as a 6 year old could be. She watched intently as the ladybug fell from its spot at the top of the piece of grass, landing flat on it’s back, struggling to overturn itself.

The taste of metal pressed against her tongue. She thought of the look on Fuyuhiko’s face.

“I need it,” she said quietly. Maki turned her head, listening.

“He says I deserve it,” Peko continued, her eyes not leaving the ladybug, watching it combat it’s on weight, still unable to get up.

Maki frowned, still ignoring the blood that was beginning to find its way onto her eyelid. 

“Don’t you hate it?”

Peko kept her gaze locked on the helpless ladybug, her hands still motionless on her lap.

“I don’t know,” she confessed, her heart feeling cold.

“I don’t know.”

Maki blinked, bewildered.

“Well I don’t think you deserve it,” Maki said intently. Peko still did not look at her. “I don’t think adults should hit kids! It’s mean!”

Peko’s gaze faltered, falling to her still hands. A spot of blood still stained the side of her right pinky finger.

“I can't—” She paused, struggling to find words. Her first grade level vocabulary could only convey so much. A knot began tying itself around her chest, squeezing it tightly.

“I can’t be weak,” she decided on, determination taking its place in her expressionless eyes.

“I can’t be weak.” 

A beat of silence hung in the air. The ladybug was still on its back.

Maki turned away from her, facing forward. She watched one of their classmates practice throwing knives against a sakura tree, knocking a few petals loose in a light shower of pink.

“I know,” she responded quietly.

Of course she did. Maki always knew. 

Maki was not like Fuyuhiko. Maki always knew, Maki always understood.

(She never had to explain anything to Maki because somehow, Maki always understood. Even when she didn’t speak or elaborate or explain, she knew that Maki always understood.)

Eventually, Peko reached her hand out, flipping the ladybug back onto it’s legs. After gaining its stance back, the little red bug spread its wings and flew into the small storm of cherry petals that blew through the air.

“I’m sorry too,” Peko said softly. Her gaze was still fixed on the air that the ladybug had disappeared into, eyes oddly misty.

Maki shrugged, finally wiping away the small train of blood that had begun to drip down from her eyebrow.

“It’s fine. It’s gonna happen.” Her irises grew dark, storms brewing behind the intense red.

“That’s why we’re here, anyway.”

Peko turned her gaze back to the ground.

“Yeah.”

Maki lifted her arm from around her knees and began pulling up pieces of grass until her hands were muddy.

“I can’t be weak either.”

Peko nodded subtly as she listened, eyes still fogged over.

“It’s like sensei said,” Maki continued. “We have to give it everything we’ve got. Or else…” 

Her voice trailed off into the lazy breeze, lost among the blossoms.

“Or else we could die.”

Peko finished her sentence bluntly, her voice flat and steely.

Sometimes, Peko reminded Maki of metal; She was cold and hard and everything that Maki knew she was supposed to be. But Maki could never find it in her to call Peko “scary,” because despite the fact that she had been just centimeters from cutting Maki’s throat an hour ago, she found that she was never truly scared around the other girl.

“Yeah, we could die.”

The wind playfully rustled the pink petals, scattering a few more around their heads.

“The sakura trees are really pretty,” Peko said faintly, her white ribbons dancing in the wind.

Maki stopped pulling up dirt and wiped her palms on her already dusty skirt.

“Yeah.” Maki smiled, watching another flurry of pink settle into a clump of green that was planted several feet away from the dojo.

The petals floated down into a rosebush that, like the trees around them, bloomed beautifully and gracefully, rich red petals bursting from the deep verdant foliage that encircled them. Blush blossoms of every size whirled through the air as the roses stayed put, rooted to the spot, aching to dance with the flurries of pink that surrounded them.

“Those roses are really pretty too,” Maki said softly, admiring the vivid crimson of the roses, that shade of red familiar to her.

“Oh yeah, huh.” Peko tore her eyes away from the free floating petals in the wind to admire the lone rosebush that lay forgotten among the various shades of pink.

Taking in the picturesque scenery that enveloped them, Maki’s shoulders relaxed, and the throbbing pain in her face began fading away.

“Spring is really pretty, huh?” 

She let out a breath for what felt like the first time all day, and when she inhaled, the sweet cherry scented air filled her lungs again.

Peko’s clouded eyes cleared, making room for the sunset behind them.

“Yeah, it is.”

A smile filled with something she wasn’t sure of spread across her face, the redness of the roses resonant in her mind.

Maki found herself smiling with the same thing as she reached for the unopened bento box that still lay untouched between them.

“You ready for some lunch?”

Light returned to both of their eyes as the box snapped open.

—

“Idiot girl!”

Maki grit her teeth as the caretaker woman delivered a brutal lash against her cheek. Though the small girl was already teeming with various injuries, none of those seemed to be of any concern to anybody here.

“How many times have I told you brats to shut off the sink tightly!” The woman screeched at Maki, and Maki did nothing but stare back with hate and anger emanating off her body.

“God, it’s been dripping for how long?” The woman rubbed her temples. “If you stupid urchins just did what you were told…” 

Maki stood still, quiet rage coursing through her.

“You kids are so fucking useless around here! It’s no wonder nobody wanted you.”

The small girl planted her feet into the ground, doing her best not to give in to the sudden urge to rip the pocketknife from the side of her thigh and show this woman what exactly she had been learning over the last 8 or so months.

The woman shot her another dirty look. “Go to your room. I don’t want to see any more of you.”

She gladly obeyed.

Maki stormed into her room and ripped open her drawer on her small bedside table, fumbling around for the spare roll of bandages that she kept in there for days like these. Ignoring the hotness that still lingered on her cheek, she began patching up the various cuts and wounds that were scattered across her skin, starting with a rather shallow one near her ankle and ending with the one at the base of her throat.

After she somewhat resembled a mummy, Maki flopped down onto her cot, something in her chest burning.

_ ‘If I was bigger, I’d hit her back,’  _ she thought indignantly to herself, fire consuming her skin. When she felt as though she was about to explode, Maki flipped over and buried her face in her pillow, willing herself not to scream.

_ ‘It’s no wonder nobody wanted you.’ _

She beat her fists into her pillow, white hot rage burning up every part of her. No tears came, no wetness appeared on her pillow case, and subconsciously Maki wondered if she was even capable of crying.

The girl lifted her face from her pillow and took a deep breath, then promptly turned face downwards into it once more, letting out a silent scream that she knew nobody would hear.

After laying face down and doing nothing for some time, Maki flipped over onto her back and stared at the drab grey ceiling. The tiny chips in the cement stared back, and if she looked long enough, she could make out tiny faces in the dots and crevices.

As she counted the specks above her, Maki’s mind began wandering, something that it didn’t get the chance to do often. She thought of cool, clear lakes and braided hair and the aroma of cherries, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Maki wondered if there was someone out there among the lakes and braids and cherries who wanted her.

The fantasy of a child began taking shape in her head, and Maki imagined her holding hands with two faceless adults, strolling down a street decorated with twinkling lights and picking out presents in various windows. She smiled as she held this piece of her imagination close to her, almost afraid to let go. 

Maki’s room was still dark. She had stormed in without turning on the light, and now the tiny window on the wall next to her bed lit up with the pale sheen of moonlight, painting the cloudy pane with a shade of silver that Maki swore she’d seen somewhere before.

Through the dirty glass, the moon stared down at her, and Maki tore her attention away from the freckles in the ceiling and stared back. When she looked long enough, she could almost make out a face carved into the surface of the moon.

She squinted, not sure if she was imagining or remembering.

“...Mom?”

The face on the moon said nothing, because it was nothing more than a stone.

—

Warm red blood splashed across her sleeves as she delivered another blow to an oncoming man, feeling his life being wrung out on the knots of her clothing

A harsh laugh bellowed from behind her, and she heard more footsteps approaching from behind. She quickly turned around, katana raised.

She was met only with the men that she had come here with, several of them wiping off blood from their hands or faces.

“Relax, Pekoyama, just us.”

Peko lowered her sword, letting her guard down around Kuzuryu's henchmen. They had taken her along on a mission at Mr. Kuzuryu’s request, and she’d kept her head held high despite the jeering remarks they had made about her age and height, some of them even grumbling to themselves about having to babysit a child.

However, Peko had more than pulled her own weight. She’d taken down at least half a dozen men and even saved one of their own from getting attacked from behind, not hesitating to rip open a vein. As her small sword sliced through the air, her face became completely emotionless, cold and calculated, unfeeling like she needed to be.

“My apologies, I was just being careful.”

The man shrugged as he dug around in his pockets.

“You’ve gotten real good with that sword, kid.”

He pulled out the keys to their black SUV, throwing them up into the air and catching them in his fist.

Peko stared at her hands that were still wrapped around the handle of the katana and tried not to grimace as she felt her clothes, still wet with blood, cling uncomfortably to her skin.

“Thank you. I do my best to serve the Kuzuryu clan and I’m glad you think so” she said politely, bowing her head once.

The man barked out another laugh. 

“That old man’s really got her trained, eh?” The other men around him erupted in a low chorus of chuckles that sent a shiver up Peko’s spine.

“Alright, everyone into the car. You too, kid. The cleanup crew can take care of this.” The henchmen all began heading towards the car, laughing and talking amongst themselves, leaving the girl behind.

The man that she had just stabbed her sword through just minutes ago made a deep, guttural sound, barely audible from the back of his throat, and she knew that despite the fatally large pool of blood that was beginning to grow underneath him, he was still alive.

Peko kept her eyes forward and walked to the car.

.

Later than night, Peko watched the water turn a dark shade of red as she washed her hands off in the sink.

She watched that same shade of red stain the floor of the tub and leak out of her clothes.

She could not quite seem to get it out from underneath her fingernails.

Peko sat on her tatami mat, eyes closed, calves folded underneath her, hands on her thighs. She breathed, in and out, until her lungs felt like an overstretched balloon. Even rubber can only take so much.

When she opened her eyes, they fell onto the small window that was placed high up on the wall in her room that was washed in an odd, pearly glow. Curious, Peko pushed herself up from the ground and squinted, trying to get a better look up at the window that was too far up for her to reach.

In it, she saw specks of stars dotting the night sky.

_ ‘It almost looks like a coloring book.’ _

Peko took another step towards the window, longing to be taller, drinking in the sight of a connect the dots game etched into the universe. She almost wished she had a pencil with her.

The little girl remembered the time she’d overheard Mrs. Kuzuryu talking to some other woman who had come over for dinner about adult stuff that Peko actually found rather interesting. The woman was a professor of some sort at the local university, so Peko understood that she was very smart. She had brought up a “theory,” something that Peko did not know the meaning of.; however after some time of eavesdropping, she gathered that a “theory” was just an idea of some sort.

_ ‘Just say it’s an idea,’  _ she’d thought annoyedly at the time.

The woman had mentioned that there was a “theory” about “alternate universes” which stated that every single possibility in their lives was, in fact, put into motion in an “alternate universe” somewhere out there, and before she could elaborate, Mrs. Kuzuryu had just laughed and called it ridiculous and offered her another round of tea.

At the time, Peko had brushed it off as silly and complicated as well, but now as she watched the stars sparkle down playfully at her, she couldn’t help but wonder.

It was difficult for her to grasp as a 6 year old, but from what she’d heard, Peko understood that somewhere out there was possibly another version of herself where she was someone else, doing something else, somewhere else.

The flecks of light suspended in the sky waved to the small girl staring down at them, and an odd vision of lakeside houses and large, fluffy dogs and hair in pigtails and smooth skin that had never been torn or broken began dancing in the back of her mind.

_ ‘Is there a me out there who gets to do all of that stuff?’ _

The stars smiled silently, winking white light, never answering.

—

A week later, Maki sat next to her, munching on edamame and staring at her intensely.

“Are you okay? You seem weird today.”

Peko rolled the small bean of edamame around between her thumb and index finger. She had not eaten anything more than a few small green beans.

She shrugged. “I dunno. I killed more people last week.”

Maki took another bite of her plain onigiri, her face stagnant.

“How was it?”

Peko shrugged again, her shoulders feeling heavy.

“I don’t know.”

The two girls sat mutely as Maki finished her rice ball.

After not speaking for a while, Maki lifted herself up from her spot on the grass. Peko turned her head, watching her.

“What are you doing?”

Maki brushed grass off the back of her legs.

“Wait here.”

The brown haired girl padded soundlessly across the grass and to the rosebush that they had both admired just last week. Poring over the various flowers, Maki finally selected the richest, reddest petal and plucked it from its flower.

She made her way back over to Peko, the frond feeling like satin in her hands.

Maki plopped herself down next to her, a blank look on her face. Peko stared at her, visibly confused.

Wordlessly, Maki held out her hand.

In between her thumb and index finger was a single rose petal.

Peko just looked at her, dumbfounded.

“What’s this for?”

Maki shrugged.

“For you.”

Still bewildered, Peko did not take it.

“Why?”

“I dunno.”

She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, still not understanding.

“Why did you get this?”

Maki chewed the inside of her cheek, unsure how to answer.

“I dunno. It reminded me of you, I guess.”

Peko blinked, still confused, but touched.

“Oh. That’s nice. Thank you.”

She still didn’t take the petal.

Maki let out a huff of annoyance as her eyes flitted down to the petal, then back up to Peko’s face, then back to the petal, shaking her hand expectantly.

“Oh, you want me to have it?”

Maki rolled her eyes.

“Yes, dummy.”

Peko let out a loud, clear laugh, one that Maki had not heard in a long time, and she couldn’t help but let one out too.

Smiling, Peko tenderly took the petal from Maki’s hand and held it in her own.

“Thank you, Maki.”

“You’re welcome, Peko.”

Despite the abundance of cherry petals around them, the underlying scent of roses lingered.


End file.
